LIBRARY 

UNrVKRStTY  Of 
CAUFORNIA 

SAN  Diceo 


^^  0 


PS 


POEMS. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

HISTORIC — LYRIC — JUVENILE. 

EPIC. 

THE  MISSION  BRIDE — SCENES  LAID  IN    SCOTLAND,  NEW  ENGLAND, 
AND  THE  LPPER  MISSISSIPPI. 

D  RAM  ATI  C. 

(illBLICAL.) 
HISTORY  OF  JOSEPH  ILLUSTRATED:    THREE  ACTS,  NINE  SCENES. 

BY     . 

RICHAKI)   C.   STONE, 

Author  "Oenettlo^y  uml  BioRruihy  of  itn- fJloiH- Family,  K.I  ,"  "Mfe- 

lacideuU— lloiiic,  Scho<jl  uml  Cbarcli,  "  "Scriliblings  on  a 

Journey , , '  '  •  Visit  to  Mainraotli  Cuve . ' ' 


S.'M.N  I     I.OL'IS: 

BOUTUWESTERN  HOOK  A.NIJ  I'LULISHINU  COMTANY, 

417  NORTH    SIXTH  STREKT. 

1876. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1876,  by 

RICHARD  CFXIL  SI  ONE, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


9 


Historical  Drama,  Jf5  pages, 
sent  to  order,  post-paid,  at  15 
cents,  cost  price.    Address, 

R.  C.  STOjYE, 
///'-i/  j)        /Bunker  Hill,  Ills. 


^j         /Bun 


CJ  O  N  T  E  N  T  S  . 


EXPLICATION. — NUMBERS    REFER   TO    PAGES. 


CREATION— MISSISSIPPI  VALE. 

God's  First  Creation  Before  Light  —  Chaotic  Matter  —  Entire 
Silence,  i.  Light  —  Life — Atomic  Affinities — Action — Results, 
Rocks,  Plants,  Vegetable  Life,  2.  Clouds — Shades — Sun's  Rays 
Shine  Through — Measure  of  Time — Animal  Life,  3.  Creation  Pro- 
gressive— Chaos — Darkness — Day — Life  Individual — Testimony  of 
Rocks,  4.  Last  Created  Age — Manhood — Beauty — Innocence,  5. 
Man  Sins — Mercy  Pleads — Compassion  Hears — Heaven  is  Revealed, 
6.  Progress — Mississippi  Vale,  7,  8.  Fountains  of  the  River,  8,  9. 
Fall  of  the  Eastern  World  Rise  of  the  Western,  9-12.  Discoverers 
— Columbus  — De  Leon — De  Soto,  13-16.  Discovery  of  the  Missis- 
sippi—De  Soto's  Death,  16-21. 

HISTORY  OF  JOSEPH— HISTORICAL  DRAMA. 

Introductiun — Persons  Represented — Prologue,  22-24.  ^CT  I, 
Scene  i — Canaan — Controversial  Colloquy  Between  the  Wives,  25. 
Scene  2  —  Canaan — Conspiracy  of  Brethren  —  Jacob  and  Joseph 
Enter — Joseph  Relates  his  Dream,  29-31.  Scene  3 — C.inaan — 
Reuben's  Entreaty- Gad's  Malice  and  Infidelity — Other  Brethren 
Present — Joseph  Enters — Attempted  Murder — He  is  Finally  Solil, 
32-39.  Scene  4 — Canaan — Discussion  Among  the  Women — Bloody 
Coat — Jacob  Almost  Faints — Grand  Children  Alarmed  Come  in — 
They  Holil  a  Converse  Alone,  38-46. 

Act  n — ^Prologue,  47.  Scene  I — Egy|)l — t.'onvcrsation  on  Dif- 
ferent .Modes  of  Worship  by  Joseph  and  .Maiilens  of  I'^gypt,  48-53. 
Scene! — Egypt — Joseph's  Brethren  Converse  Among  Themselves — 


IV 


CONTENTS 


They  Meet  Joseph — He  Calls  Them  Spies — Simeon  is  Imprisoned — 
The  Others  go  Home,  53-56.  Scene  3 — Canaan  —  Brothers  at 
Home — Plea  of  Reuben  and  Judah  to  the  Father  for  Sending  Ben- 
jamin— He  Consents,  56-64.  Scene  4  —  Egypt  —  Two  Egyptian 
Maidens — Brethren  in  Egypt — Converse  and  Dine  with  Joseph — 
Leave  for  Canaan,  60-62.  Scene  5 — Egypt — Silver  Cup  Lost — 
Brethren  Arrested— Brought  Back — Sacks  Searched — Cup  Found — 
Judah's  Plea — Joseph  Deeply  Affected — ^Egyptians  go  out — Joseph 
Exclaims  "  I  am  Joseph,  your  Brother" — All  Deeply  Moved — He 
Sends  for  his  Father,  63-66.     Valedictory,  67-68. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 


Early  and  Late  Clouds 69 

You  are  on  Life's  Way 69 

Cross  is  the  Hope  of  the  Soul.  71 

The  Mississippi 71 

Cornet 72 

My  First  Pair  of  Boots 73 

Sucker  Boy 77 

Dedication  Hymn 78 

My  Cat 79 


A  Puzzle 80 

Home  of  a  Week 81 

Acrostic  to  Calista  Webster.  ..81 
Farewell   to    Nellie  —  True 

NobiHty 82 

Hymn  Sung  at  a  Picnic 83 

Poem  on  the  Death  of  Ostrando 

Phillips 84 

Original  Song  by  a  Girl  of  3  yrs.85 


MISSION  BRIDE,  WITH  NOTES  AND  EXPLICATIONS. 


Address  to  Housatonic,  the  country  watered  by  the  River  of 
that  name  in  Western  Mass.  and  Conn.,  which  was  named  for  the 
Tribes  of  Indians  once  inhabiting  that  region,  sometimes  called 
Stockbridge  Tribes,  86.  Irene's  Grave  A  Foreshadowing — Her 
Birth,  87.  Parentage — Father,  son  of  a  Scottish  Laird,  but,  wed- 
ding a  girl  of  rustic  descent,  was  disinherited — "One  Brother's 
Heart  for  Robert " — His  Brother,  Malcolm,  never  cast  him  off— Sent 
him  letters  with  much  fraternal  love,  90.  Oscar,  Malcolm's  Son, 
Visits — Results — His  Return  Home,  93-98.  Irene's  Father  Dies — 
The  Mother's  Faith  and  Trust — A  Letter,  101-104.  Civil  War  in 
Scotland — Oscar  Loyal — Battle  of  Preston  Pans — Vic.  for  Pretender 
— Oscar  with  his  Party  Pursued — They  Turn — Ten  Rebels  Fall, 
107-HO.     Loyal  Scots  Meet  at  St.  Bride— Malcolm's  Speech,  Ii2- 


CONTENTS.  V 

113.  Fergus  and  Oscar  Take  a  Message  to  Lord  Argyle — The 
Thunder  Storm — Death,  114- 11 5.  No  News  from  Scotland — Irene 
is  Pained — The  Mother  Very  Feeble — Her  Counsel  to  Irene — Snow- 
fall in  May  —  The  Mother's  Death,  1 17-1 19.  Funeral  Irene 
Adopted  by  the  Pastor — A  Summer  Scene — Alone  at  Glen  Cottage, 
121-125.  Irene's  Murmurs — Prayer — A  Guest — Her  Dream — A 
Star  Ascends  to  Heaven,  127-131.  James  Mortimer  Proposes  Mar- 
riage— She  Informs  Him  of  Oscar — He  Leaves  for  his  Labors  in 
the  West,  134-137.  Helen — A  Letter  — Irene  Faints — Malcolm's 
Account  of  Oscar's  Death,  138-141.  A  Teacher  in  Village  School — 
Seasons  Pass  On — Meets  a  Stranger — His  Character — Pastor's  Cau- 
tion and  Counsel — Her  Reply,  142-152.  Caution — Her  Mother's 
Words — The  Visitor  Again — Film  Removed — Firm  Decline,  153- 
155.  Another  Meeting  — "Sit  Down  Upon  the  Grass  " — He  Mis- 
takes Her  Silence — She  is  Firm,  156-157.  Revenge  -  Night  Fol- 
lowing— Enters  by  .Stealth — Bears  Her  to  the  River — The  Plunge, 
159-161.  She  is  Saved — By  Whom? — After  Years  Explain,  161- 
162.  Indians  Emigrate  West — Mementoes — Sigh  for  Their  Early 
Home— Occasional  Visits,  165-166.  A  Young  Christian  Brave — 
The  Condition  and  Wants  of  His  Nation,  166-167.  Irene's  Con- 
ference with  her  Pastor  Irene  Again  Visits  the  Graves  of  her 
Parents,  167-169.  The  Farewell  and  Departure — The  Long  Jour- 
ney, 170-171. 

PART     II. 

Far  West — Irene's  Visit  to  the  Missionary — A  Warrior  Indian 
makes  one  of  the  Company — His  Explanation  and  Welcome — The 
Indian  Rises — His  .Story — He  Saved  her  from  Death  on  the  Housa- 
tonic,  and  .Slew  the  Murderer,  174-178.  Irene  Called  "  White  Dove" 
— Confirms  the  Indian's  Story — Indian  Children,  179-1S2.  War — 
The  Warning — The  Cave — The  Sachem's  Son,  Owassa,  1S3-185. 
The  Battle — Sioux  and  lowas — Sioux  Conquered — War  Dance — 
Funeral  Pile — Irene's  Plea,  186-191.  Death-.Song — Irene  Teaches 
the  Young  Her  Boldness — Prayer  on  Woodvale  Green — Large 
Gatherings — Onlara,  an  Indian  Prophet,  Opposes — His  Speech, 
192-197.  OnUra  Troubled— -Must  .See  "The  Dove,"  "The  Pale- 
Faccd  Flower,"  Again — He  Warns  Her  of  Danger — He  Hears  the 
"Children's    Song"— Rushes    Away    Agitated,    198-201.      Ontara 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Again  Visits  "The  White  Dove" — Tells  her  of  a  Cave  where  the 
Manito  Speaks  to  him — Asks  her  to  Visit  it  with  him — She  P'inally 
Consents,  202-206.  The  Journey — They  Enter  the  Dread  Cave, 
207-208.  The  Test,  210-211.  Return — The  Dying  Girl — Her 
Story  and  Funeral,  215-21 7.  Home— Ontara's  Distress — Irene's 
Prayer,  217-220.  General  Missionary  Meeting  at  Woodvale — On- 
tara's Speech — Irene  Hears  a  Voice  She  Remembers! — "The  Dia- 
mond," 221-222.  Irene's  Marriage,  226.  Life  Onward — Ontara's 
Death  Scene  —  Prophecy,  Closing  with  a  Glimpse  of  our  Great 
Internecive  Struggle,  229-232.     Conclusion. 


COMMENDATIONS, 


From  Miss  Abbie  Maclean,  Prin.  Classical  School,  California' 

I  have  read  your  poetic  work,  "The  Mission  Bride,"  all  through 
to  myself,  and  again  to  my  sister  and  family,  and  I  like  it  very  much. 
Irene,  fair  and  lovely  as  the  spring-time  of  life  portrayed  her,  grew 
doubly  dear  to  me  when  sorrow  came,  for  it  changed  not  one  thought 
of  her  sweet  guileless  life  into  bi'terness  or  discouragement!  It 
only  wove  for  her  patient  brow  a  purer  wreath  placed  there  by  invis- 
ible angel  hands!  1  am  no  critic  by  habii  or  ability,  but  this  I 
know,  it  is  a  sweet,  touching  story,  always  pleasantly,  sometimes 
beautifully  pictured,  wmning  its  way  gently  but  surely  to  the  heart. 


From  Dknham   Arnoi.U,  a.  M.,  Pfof.  of  Physics,  and  Principal 
of  the  Academic  Department,   Washington  University: 

I  have  spent  a  delightlul  evening  with  your  book  of  Poems.  Many 
of  the  shorter  pieces  tell,  in  a  happy  and  instructive  way,  of  the  little 
joys  and  sorrows  of  daily  life  and  early  years,  which,  however,  so 
largely  mould  our  character  by  the  way  in  which  they  are  borne. 
But  the  story  of  Irene,  so  clearly  and  beautifully  told,  with  frequent 
touches  of  poetic  grace,  is  the  golden  thread  in  the  book.  The 
heroine  shows  how  strong  a  character  may  be  formed  by  those  who 
are  true  to  parental  responsibility.  Kvcr  obeying  the  voice  which 
calLs  to  duty,  she  was  able,  by  her  very  weakness,  and  the  power  of 
Faith,  to  win  to  a  higher  life,  not  only  the  children  of  ilie  Ke<l  Man, 
but  the  mighty  warrior  and  the  prophet  of  his  race.  If  she  fails  to 
win  the  reader,  he  must  be  less  noble  than  tiic  savage. 

"  The  diamond  in  the  darkest  mine. 
Forgets  not  ever  it  has  ponver  (o  shine." 


VIU  COMMENDATIONS. 

From  Prof.  N.  R.  Goss,  Principal  of  Bunker  Hill  Academy  : 

It  is  a  collection  of  pleasing  life  sketches,  skillfully  arranged  to 
poetic  measure ;  a  work  remarkable  for  its  naturalness  of  character, 
as  well  as  for  its  vividness  of  language  and  high  moral  tone. 


From  Rev.  A.  H.  Smith,  Illinois  : 

This  Epic  Poem  is  truly  descriptive  of  God's  power  and  wisdom, 
in  making  the  darkest  events  of  life  but  the  opening  up  of  earth's 
most  glorious  results  and  heaven's  brightest  rainbow  beauties.  It 
will  prove,  I  think,  very  valuable  as  suggestive  of  noble  and  elevated 
thought. 


From  J.  M.  Field,  Publisher,  Massachusetts: 

Your  work  is  very  fully  in  accordance  with  poetic  rules.     There  is 
less  poetic  license  than  almost  any  work  I  have  ever  read. 


CREATION: 

SONG  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI  VALE. 


"  They  viewed  the  vast  immeasurable  abyss — 
Darii,  wasteful,  wild." 

"  For  Chaos  heard  his  voice:   Him  all  his  train 
Followed  in  bright  procession  to  behold 
Creation  and  the  wonders  of  his  might." 

Paradisk  Lost. 

The  Chaos  universal — awful,  still — 

Lay  silent  'neath  Creation's  darkest  pall ; 
A  silence,  ay,  so  awful,  dread  and  chill. 

That  shudd'rings  drear,  like  reptile's  touch,  appal, 
Yet  lack  th'  enlivening  of  their  serpent  hiss 

To  break  the  spell,  to  raise  the  curtains  drear, 
To  waken  into  life  the  black  abyss, 

And  with  some  sound  Creation's  audience  cheer ! 
O  Silence !  Silence  !  Thy  quiescent  hand 

Has  scattered  fragrance  on  my  wearied  head. 
Has  hushed  the  din  of  Earth,  has  bade  me  sleep 

In  sweet  forgetfulness  on  Nature's  flowery  bed. 
But  thou  art  not  that  silence  which  of  yore 

Crushed  low  the  wide-spread  world  of  atom  life — 


2  CREATION. 

Compared  with  that,  the  thunder's  fearful  roar, 

The  lightning's  sheen,  the  elemental  strife. 
The  whirlwind's  grasp,  the  fiery  tides  that  roll 

Adown  the  burning  mountain's  rocky  side, 
And  hiss  and  seethe  and  drink  up  pool  and  rill, 

Darting  their  flaming  tongues  all  heavenward,  wide! 
These,  O  dread,  chaotic  Silence,  these 

Are  music's  sweetest  strains  compared  with  thee. 
Hail !  Spirit  Mandate !  which  could  waken  life. 

And  tune  Creation  into  harmony  ! 

"  Let  there  be  Light !  "     All  Chaos  felt  the  shock. 

With  trembling  dread,  ten  thousand  atoms  wake, 
Lift  up  their  heads  and  shake  each  tiny  lock. 

Like  water-sprites  upon  a  peaceful  lake; 
A  new-born  love  thrills  every  atom  small ; 

Affinities  spring  up  unknown  before  ; 
Love  flies,  obedient  to  Creation's  call, 

And  heavenward  wings  its  way  its  Maker  to  adore; 
The  vas.t,  soul-lighted  flood,  replete  with  life, 

Obeys  the  laws  of  wisdom  uncreate ; 
Simples  and  compounds  onward  urge  their  strife; 

Spring  into  action,  instinct,  love,  and  hate. 
And  new-born  forms  displace  the  mighty  voia. 

Kindle  the  fires  of  sentient  life  among 
A  world  of  elements  of  life  devoid, 

And  waken  Nature's  universal  song  ! 
And  now  the  rocks  in  massive  forms  arise, 

Their  ponderous  feet  on  Earth's  capacious  breast, 
Above  the  billows  dark  they  raise  their  eyes — 

Uprear  their  heads  by  Heaven's  most  high  behest! 
Period  on  Period  rolls :   Here  Nature's  God 


C  R  !•:  A  r  1  O  N  .  3 

Reveals  his  omnipresent  power  and  love  : 
Within  the  ocean's  deeps — its  swaying  flood — 

Dark  forms  of  sentient  life  begin  to  move. 
The  elemental  play  of  new-born  life, 

Evolving  heat  through  Nature's  mystic  range, 
Sends  warring  simples,  combinations  rife 

With  heaving  fires  and  bellowing  surges  strange ! 
Anon,  above  tlie  waves'  dark,  dashing  scope 

Deposits  rise  :  the  solvent  globe  beneath, 
Emerging  into  light,  in  buoyant  hope, 

Soon  wears  upon  its  head  a  verdant  wreath ! 

Father !   What  changes  have  the  Earth  o'erspread ! 

How  wonderful  and  vast  !    How  wild  and  strange  ! 
Advancing  Periods  rose  and  fell  instead, 

All  more  approaching  Thee  in  wondrous  change  ! 
Now  clouds  and  murky  shades  revolve  and  roll, 

E'en  through  the  mists  Suns  bright  resplendent  shine. 
The  globe  revolves — the  day  and  day's  repose 

Space  off  the  disc — the  dial-plate  of  time. 
Now  round  the  world  the  gentle  breezes  float, 

The  winged  tribes  begin  to  skim  the  skies ; 
The  huge  Fle'saurian  monster  lifts  his  throat 

Above  the  rolling  waters  as  they  rise. 
The  vapors  now  through  heat's  expanding  powers 

.Arise  on  murky  wings  and  skyward  soar  ; 
Again  they  hover  down — descend  in  showers. 

And  on  the  thirsty  ground  their  torrents  pour  ! 
Springs  bursting  from  the  hills  no  longer  sleep. 

But  babble  forth  their  native  joys  untold, 
Rush  smiling  down  the  venlant  hill-side  steep. 

And  mingle  into  one,  like  hearts  of  finest  mould. 


4  CREATION. 

Another  age  now  rises;  all  before, 

Successive,  each  in  turn,  was  swept  away  ; 
Each  left  its  autograph  in  rock  and  shore, 

In  mount  or  vale,  in  darkness  or  in  day. 
More  glorious  this — approximating  still. 

In  thought  divine,  more  near  its  primal   Head  ! 
The  quadrupedal  race  now  roam  at  will, 

They  crop  the  verdant  lawn,  and  rest  in  sun  or  shade. 
With  awe  we  trace  Thy  footprints  through  the  glade, 

And  ponder  on  the  mystic  slaughtered  crpwd  ; 
The  hand  of  an  almighty  Power  has  laid 

All  mundane  life  within  its  fossil  shroud  ! 
There  'neath  its  tombstone  silent  ages  sleep, 

Ages  that  quietly  prepared  the  way 
To  elevate  Creation's  rising  sweep 

From  Chaos,  darkness,  night,  to  glorious  day  ! 
Kind  Guardian  of  Creation's  varied  race  ! 

Thy  power  hath  wrought  a  consummation  just ; 
Most  wisely  given  to  each   their  time  and  place, 

Assigned  their  limit  ere  they  fell  to  dust ; 
Though  cloud  and  mystery  envelope  all 

We  know  of  Thee,  yet  rock  and  sand  unfold 
The  story  of  Creation's  birth — thy  call 

To  life  and  being,  as  thy  truth  unrolled 
Nature's  great  book  of  laws,  and  bade  the  spheres 

Move  on  obedient  to  thy  mighty  plan. 
Nor  count  the  space  of  the  encircling  years 

'Till  Earth  was  fashioned  for  the  home  of  Man  ! 

The  last  created  age,  with  vital  force, 

Encircles  in  its  arms  a  new-born  race ; 
Life  intellectual,  reasoning,  finds  its  source. 


CREATION.  5 

And  Nature  up  to  Nature's  God  can  trace  ! 
The  Earth,  arrayed  for  life's  embattled  field, 

Has  rolled  from  off  the  forming  hand  of  God 
And  started  on  its  yearly  course  of  speed 

Measured,  and  traced  along  its  circling  road. 
How  grand  !  how  glorious  this  mighty  sphere — 

Of  Chaos  born!  Its  sire,  Eternal  Truth! 
Millions  of  vivid  lives  expanding  here 

Rejoice  in  all  the  new  born  joyousness  of  youth  ! 
Ocean's  vast  tide  fills  up  the  deep  abyss, 

Lays  a  broad  tract  from  hill  to  mountain  vale, 
And  calls  the  gentle  breeze  anon  to  kiss 

The  snowy  whiteness  of  the  spreading  sail. 
Earth  now  shines  forth  from  grove  and  hill  and  stream, 

Kindled  to  beauty  by  the  morning's  light ; 
Fresh  flow'rets  smile  in  Phoebus'  painted  beam, 

The  hyacinth,  the  rose,  the  lily  wiiite; 
And  warbling  songsters  flit  from  bougii  to  bough, 

Delighted  with  each  other's  plumage  gay  ; 
As  summer's  suns  engild  the  mountain's  brow, 

They  sing  the  requiem  of  fieparting  day. 
The  flowery  plain,  the  stream,  the  verdant  glade. 

Replete  with  joyous  life,  now  seek  repose  ; 
Stars  twinkle  in  the  ether's  sombre  shade. 

And  moonlight  shadows  watch  the  evening's  close. 
How  beautiful  is  gentle  breathing  Night, 

When  flocks  and  herds  in  glade  ami  glen-wood  rest, 
When  human  eyelifls  curtain  off"  the  light, 

And  infants  slumber  on  their  mother's  breast ! 
Sweet  Innocence  and  Love  looked  down  and  smiled 

As  the  young  world  its  pathway  onward  rolled, 
'Till  Sin's  dark  mantle — j)urity  defiled — 


6  CREATION. 

Bequeathed  its  stains  to  ages  yet  untold  ! 
O  must  thy  new-fledged  offspring,  Heavenly  King  I 

Drain  low  the  cup  of  thine  avenging  rod  ? 
Mercy,  a  suppliant  with  folded  wing, 

Invokes  forgiveness  from  a  loving  God  : 
Meek-eyed,  beside  the  footstool  low,  she  prays : 

"  Father !  forgive  thine  erring  new-born  child, 
Suspend  the  primal  curse  for  future  days. 

And  give,  instead  of  death,  refreshing  toil !  " 
Omnipotence  m  soft  compassion  hears. 

The  boon  is  granted,  hope  is  freely  given  : 
Nature  is  joyous  e'en  despite  her  tears. 

And  man  repenting,  looks  again  to  Heaven  ! 
New  scenes  of  active  life  invest  the  world. 

Organic  force  and  sentient  power  among ; 
But  most  the  grasp  of  gravitation  holds. 

Or  hurls  the  mobile  elements  along  ; 
While  light  and  shade,  as  clouds  flit  o'er  the  moon. 

Blend  every  scene,  on  every  sea  and  shore ; 
The  world-wide  struggle  has  at  length  begun, 

To  run  its  race  'till  time  shall  be  no  more ! 


Now  shift  the  scene  and  shift  the  song — 
Man  in  his  progress  moves  along ; 
Genius  begins  to  raise  her  head. 
Beauty  and  Death  each  other  tved, 
And  weeping  Virtue  soon  discerns — 
Too  soon  the  painful  lesson  learns — 
That  the  unchequered  home  of  love 
Lies  in  celestial  worlds  above  ! 
The  race  of  man  o'erspreads  the  plain, 


CREATION. 

Climbs  the  bold  steeps,  sails  o'er  the  main, 
And  doomed  to  live  by  toil  the  while, 
Tills  every  continent  ami  isle. 

Within  a  vast  and  beauteous  vale, 

Where  prairie  flowers  their  sweets  exhale, 

Where  forests  dark,  with  viney  wreath, 

Tower  heavenward  high — the  while  beneath 

The  Florida,*  its  arms  extends, 

And  'neath  it  many  a  grape-vine  bends, 

Where  rocky  bluffs  their  vigils  keep. 

And  rivers  roll  their  waters  deep; 

The  forest  tenants  fearless  roam. 

And  make  the  mountain's  pass  their  home ; 

Throughout  this  valley,  long  and  wide, 

One  river  rolls  its  ponderous  tide. 

With  deeper,  more  resistless  flow. 

As  tropic  breezes  on  it  blow, 

As  forth  it  hastes,  in  peace  to  rest 

On  Ocean  us'  briny  breast: 

Now,  mark  these  waters  as  they  run 

Toward  a  seetning  vertic  sun, 

Where  Nature  shows  her  magic  powers 

III  rising  vapors,  falling  showers — 

Yes,  reader,  yes,  that  mighty  mass. 

Now,  torrent-rough,  now  smooth  as  glass. 

Once  sparkled  in  the  mountain  sheen, 

Once  gemmed  with  dews  the  foliage  green, 

Once  rippled  on  the  hill-side  wild, 

Or  leaped  in  joy  a  mountain  child, 

bashing  from  off  the  cliff's  dark  brow 

"*  Cornus  Florida  —Flowering  Dogwcjod. 


8  CREATIO  N. 

Four  thousand  miles  away,  where  now, 
And  ever,  gleam  the  snow-clad  hills 
Which  summer  suns  ne'er  melt  to  rills : 
Four  thousand  miles!  astounding  thought! 
And  this  the  valley  Nature  wrought 
Within  our  brave  and  noble  West, 
Our  country's  glory,  pride,  and  crest ! 

What  eye  this  valley's  breadth  can  scan ! 
Or  comprehend  Jehovah's  plan ! 
Two  hundred  rivers  through  it  sweep 
Their  channels  bright,  nor  ever  sleep ; 
They  guard  with  care  this  fluvial  plain, 
Ten  thousand  streamlets  in  their  train — 
Streamlets,  if  sung  in  classic  verse. 
Would  shame  the  Tiber  and  Simois  ! 


Hail  Mississippi !  Father  of  the  Floods  ! 

Where — where  away — first  flows  thy  liquid  source  ? 
Perchance  in  Alleghany's  piney  woods, 

Where  dancing  brooklets  hurry  on  their  course, 
Or  on  the  hills  that,  white  with  Arctic  snows, 

Send  down  their  chary  streams  in  many  a  rill; 
From  mountain  crests  where  endless  frosts  repose 

In  hoary  grandeur,  bleak,  and  pale,  and  chill; 
Or,  on  the  eastern  Rocky  Mountain  slope, 

Whose  miles  by  thousands  span  the  distant  earth, 
'Tis  there  the  naiads  in  thy  fountams  float. 

And  sunbeams  glittering  gild  thy  place  of  birth. 
The  years  by  thousands  rolled  their  circuits  round — 

Thy  beauteous  vales  in  annual  glory  clad — 


CREATION.  9 

The  Winter's  snowy  wardroDe  draped  the  ground, 

And  vernal  sunbeams  making  Nature  glad 
Returned  their  yearly  glow,  and  bade  the  years 

Unfold  their  powers.     The  stately  elk  stooped  down 
In  majesty,  and  drank  the  mountain's  tears 

That  sparkling  rolled  from  Winter's  icy  frown ! 
The  hart  with  dashing  bound  shook  off  the  dew — 

Brushed  morning  gems  from  leaf  and  floweret  bright ; 
The  spring-birds  gathered  in  the  groves  anew 

And  laved  their  plumage  in  the- genial  light; 
The  roe  with  stealthy  step  concealed  her  fawn 

The  copse-wood,  brake,  or  underwood  among. 
Lest  on  the  undulating  prairie  lawn 

The  wolt  or  wild  cat  extirpate  her  young. 
Then  Summer  comes  in  leafy  garments  drest, 

In  gentle  strength  she  curbs  her  fiery  train  ; 
Around  her  car  are  harvest  glories  prest. 

She  bids  the  Spring  depart,  no  more  to  reign  ; 
With  saddened  mien  she  draws  her  floral  cloak 

Around  her  youthful  form  in  glad  relief, 
But  ere  her  last  farewell  tlie  vision  broke 

Her  flowing  petals  fled  'mid  tears  and  grief. 
Grand  Autumn  came  with  crimson  draperies. 

And  yellow  amethystine  coronal. 
Dispersing  mellow  tints  o'er  summer  skies. 

Dressing  the  leaves  with  rainbows  soon  to  fall ! 
The  sturdy  hunter  trode  the  mountain  side, 

Or  chased  the  buffalo  across  the  plain. 
Or  traced  the  war  path  with  a  savage  p'ide, 

As  wild  the  mustang  skims  along  the  main  ! 
But  years  on  thousands  sasv  thee  still  the  same, 

The  same  thy  Vale  in  all  its  bright  array, 


lo  CREATION. 

Till  orient  beams  across  the  ocean  came 
And  West  the  Star  of  Empire  took  its  way  ! 

All  eastern  enterprise,  as  spiders  weave 

Their  fragile  nets  to  see  them  trampled  down, 
Had  failed,  mglorious,  honor  to  achieve, 

And  wrote  its  autograph  far,  far  adown 
The  page  historic — records  of  the  Past ; 

And  echoes  fainter  fell,  as  folly  blent 
The  hero-stories  of  the  shadowy  East, 

In  sad  defeat,  despair,  abandonment. 

The  son  of  Macedon,  a  conquering  band 

Led  o'er  proud  Asia's  broad  and  sunny  plains ; 
Blood-shod  they  ravaged,  conquered  every  land, 

And  crushed  in  death  the  Nation's  proudest  claims 
But  scarce  the  flying  chariot  wheels  of  Time 

This  track  of  smouldering  victories  had  crost 
When  Alexander  falls,  his  death-knells  chime, 

And  basely  are  his  boasted  conquests  lost ! 
So  fell  the  heroes  of  the  lance  and  spear, 

The  bold  Crusaders  rife  with  holy  zeal ; 
Their  bones  were  bleached  upon  the  desert  drear ; 

On  every  page  Defeat  has  set  his  seal ! 

The  land  of  life,  of  beauty,  song  and  arts. 

Now  dark  with  Moslem  clouds  and  pagan  dole, 
Sheds  influence  weak,  but  little  truth  imparts, 

To  form  the  man  and  elevate  the  soul : 
Ah,  lovely  East !  fair  daughter  of  the  morn  ! 

Mother  of  Art,  of  Christian  life  and  light ! 
How  did  thy  orient  brilliance  once  adorn 

The  page  prolific,  gilt  with  science  bright ! 


CREATION.  II 

Ages  on  ages  saw  thee  queen  of  life — 
Ot  life  progressive ;  but  thy  last  farewell 

Began  its  requiem  with  the  Moslem  strife, 
And  o'er  thy  wasting  form  the  curtain  fell ! 

The  spirit  Progress  moves  the  car  of  Fate, 

Its  ponderous  wheels  move  onward,  surely,  slow  ; 
Its  guiding  star-track  beamings  scintillate, 

And  Progress  shouts  aloud,  "  Ho  !   Westward  Ho  !  " 
All  Nature  joins  ;  the  sun  in  yellow  draped 

Each  day,  from  East  to  West,  his  fiery  steeds 
Drives  o'er  th'  ethereal  track,  as  though  escaped 

From  Night's  dark  gulf,  which  mystical  recedes  : 
He  hurries  on  to  don  his  night  attire, 

And  curtained  round  with  evening  sinks  to  rest, 
While  starry  sentinels,  with  twinkling  fire. 

Keep  vigils  by  their  Maker's  high  behest. 

Now  Luna  follows  in  beclouded  grace 

Her  mighty  lord  to  airy  chambers,  where 
In  soft  repose  of  slumber's  sweet  embrace 

Life's  wearied  powers  in  quietude  repair ; 
The  god  of  ocean  strength  awakes  anew, 

And,  twice  diurnal,  o'er  the  foamy  deeps 
His  briny  chariot  guides,  his  coursers  true. 

In  Luna's  track  his  western  journey  keeps. 
The  northern  gales  from  hollow  Borean  caves 

Sweep  whirling  on,  and  urge  their  stormy  quest 
To  meet  proud  Kurus  on  .Atlantic's  waves. 

And  join  his  journey  to  tlie  distant  West, 
The  beauteous  realm  of  rivers,  mount  and  plain. 

Long,  long  unknown  in  all  their  pristine  glow ; 
Seas,  winds  and  sunbeams,  moonlight  shades —  a  train 

All  join  the  line  of  march — "  Flo!   Westward  Ho! 


12  CREATION. 

All  human  enterprises  feel  the  shock, 

Their  grasp  relax  on  oriental  mind ; 
Their  treasures  seize  and  hasten  to  embark  . 

With  peaceful  gales  to  regions  unprefined. 
Science  and  Art,l;win-sisters  of  the  skies, 

In  youthful  blitheness  sported  on  the  hills 
Of  Syria  fair ;  now  fain  they  recognize 

Their  home  where  occidental  dew  distils ! 
The  Muses  felt  their  loneliness,  and  sat 

In  thoughtful  silence  by  their  fountains  dear ; 
Their  songs  were  hushed,  joy  fled,  and  hope  thereat 

Lost  every  charm  while  dropped  the  scalding  tear 
Hope  dawned  again  upon  the  soral  ?ii?ie, 

As  from  the  East  their  footsteps  turn  to  roam  j 
They  bore  their  sacred  fount  across  the  brine, 

And  gave  their  Helicon  a  western  home. 

Erudite  scholars  scanned  in  Egypt's  vales 

The  air-built  concave,  diamond-set,  and  strong  ; 
Their  youthful  lungs  were  fanned  by  fragrant  gales 

As  danced  they,  joyful,  orange  groves  among ; 
But  learning  doffed  her  antiquated  crown — 

Her  magic  lamp  burnt  flickering  and  vain. 
And  man's  progressive  strength  is  resting  down 

On  fair  Columbia's  broad  o'ershadowing  plain. 


Now,  let  us  speed  the  wing  of  thought 
To  cleave  the  dim  and  dusky  past — 

The  change  four  centuries  have  wrought. 
With  future  visions  overcast. 


C  R  E  A  r  I  O  N  .  13 

On  mild  Genoa's  sunny  plain 

Was  born  of  humble  line  a  son, 
Whose  rising  star  a  monarch's  train 

Outshone  and  dazzled  as  it  run  ! 
A  star  whose  westering  pencils  threw 

A  light  o'er  Castile,  and  unfurled 
For  generations  yet  to  view, 

The  banners  of  the  Western  World  ! 

Blow  gently  wirds  that  stir  the  deep  ! 

Adventurous  barks  move  o'er  it  now, 
Whose  trembling  sails  abroad  shall  keep 

Their  swell,  till  hails  each  briny  prow 
Before  an  unknown  island  shore, 

That,  as  an  emerald  on  the  sea. 
Shall  signal  thence  and  evermore 

A  region  destined  for  the  Free  ! 

Three  ships  are  anchored  in  the  surf — 

Bold  Spaniards  tread  a  stranger  coast. 
Beholding  on  the  flowery  turf, 

In  reverence  bowed,  a  naked  host ! 
They  bowed — by  glittering  arms  deceived. 

By  bold  Castillian  splendors  won. 
And  in  their  iimocence  believed 

Them  just  descended  from  the  sun  1 

The  wanderers  left  San  Salvador 
And  spread  their  snowy  sails  to  seek 

A  dreamy  coast,  a  main  land  shore, 

Though  storms  should  blench  each  sailor  check. 

Exjicctant  days  thus  wore  away, 
Till  dim  and  distant  outlines  seen 


14  CREATION. 

Above  the  surges'  foaming  play, 

Grew  more  defined,  and  clear,  and  green. 

Columbus  stands  upon  the  prow, 
A  dime  he  sees  before  unknown ; 

The  shadowy  mountain  summits  bow 
To  greet  the  world's  adventurous  son  ! 

They  landed  on  the  smiling  shore, 

A' fair  new  world  around  them  spread; 

Dark  fears  which  chased  them,  ocean  o'er, 
Now  shrunk  away,  forever  fled ! 

But  speed  my  muse,  the  lengthening  tale ; 

Adventurers  arose  apace 
To  colonize  each  beauteous  vale 

And  Christianize  the  heathen  race. 

Thus  centuries  their  courses  rolled 

While  many  a  brow  grew  sad  and  frowned 

Foiled  in  pursuit  of  fame  and  gold — 
By  savage  killed  or  ocean  drowned. 

De  Leon  for  this  new-found  sphere 

Embarked  in  wild  chimeral  dreams 
To  seek  a  fount  whose  waters  clear 

Were  fraught  with  pure  immortal  gleams  ! 
A  fount  with  powers — elixirs  rare — 

To  check  the  beautiful's  decay, 
And  make  the  night  of  age  as  fair 

As  childhood's  flowery  morn  of  May  ! 

He  found  a  land  of  wondrous  bloom 
Where  every  tree  was  gay  with  flowers. 

And  many  a  streamlet's  sylvan  tune 
Allured  the  warm  and  lingering  hours. 


CREATION.  15 

No  fount  immortal  with  them  chimed, 
His  steps  still  pressed  a  sin-clad  Earth 

NVhere  only  man's  undying  mind 

Gives  glimpses  of  its  heavenly  birth ! 

Pizzaro's  friend,  De  Soto,  fired 

With  love  of  fame  and  pride  of  gold, 
Led  forth  an  eager  host,  inspired 

By  him  with  trust  and  courage  bold  ; 
They  reached  the  shore  of  gems  and  flowers — 

Like  changing  meteors  o'er  the  wild. 
The  dazzling  phantom  still  allures, 

And  long  their  fondest  hopes  beguiled ! 

But  yet  the  cavalier  sped  o'er 

The  flowery  acres,  far,  untried — 
Far  from  Atlantic's  stormy  shore, 

And  danger  seemed  De  Soto's  guide ! 
The  savage  warred,  and  still  they  traced 

The  miles  their  sanguine  wanderings  led  ; 
They  penetrated  reedy  waste, 

And  fens  where  poison  serpents  fed ! 

Not  spectre  of  the  "  Dismal  Swamp," 

Not  Indian's  dark  revenge  and  hate, 
Not  wild  beasts  howling  round  the  camp, 

Could  dim  ambition's  fire  elate  ; 
While  hope  its  mantle  o'er  them  spread, 

They  forded  many  a  silver  stream  ; 
"  There's  something  great  and  grand  ahead," 

Still  whispered  proud   De  Soto's  dream  ! 
Thus  summers  passed,  mild  winters  wore 

With  march  and  strife,  and  death  away, 


i6  CREATION. 

While  scarce  came  tidings  from  the  shore 

Of  distant  Spain  or  Florida ; 
But  no  entreaty  yet  infused 

Regret  in  Soto  ;  dark  he  frowned, 
Unquailed  by  danger,  on  he  pressed, 

For  "  El  Dorado  "  was  unfound  ! 

Lo  !  bursting  on  their  weary  gaze, 

A  mighty  stream  is  shimmering  through 
The  darkly  tangled  forest  maze, 

Reflecting  brought  the  sunset's  hue  ! 
Flowing  with  deep  and  turbid  tide, 

A  slowly  rolling  yellow  sea  ; 
Its  channel  curving,  spreading  wide — 

Majestic,  grand,  perpetually  ! 

*  *  *  # 

Three  hundred  twenty  years  have  told 

Their  silent  stories  of  the  Past ; 
Dim,  dusky  parchments  have  unrolled 

And  gleams  prophetic  onward  cast ; 
Now  commerce  grand  in  steamer  bold 

On  Mississippi's  bosom  sails  ; 
The  Nations  distant  now  behold 

The  Star  of  Empire  Westward  hails  ! 

And  still  a  thousand  cycles  grey 

May  wreathe  the  rising  shaft  of  time 
While  o'er  them  to  the  latest  day 

Shall  stand  De  Soto's  fate  subUme  ! 
Shall  mark  the  man  who  proudly  died 

When  first  the  dawning  truth  was  known 
Of  that  grand  stream  upon  whose  tide 

Shall  float  the  wealth  of  millions  down  ! 


CREATION.  17 

THE  DEATH  OF  DE  SOTO. 


Behold  the  wasting  of  a  dream, 
The  flickering  ot  life's  lamp  ! 

The  tents  are  pitched  beside  the  stream, 
Low  murmurs  from  the  camp 

Are  whispering  that  the  hand  of  death 

Is  slowly  stealing  Soto's  breath  ! 

An  Indian  maiden  fans  his  brow. 
Her  coal-tinged  eyes  are  deep  ; 

Her  tears,  as  when  the  south  winds  blow, 
Rain  as  the  blossoms  weep. 

Falling  upon  the  sufferer's  cheek, 

Whose  eye  of  pride  is  strangely  meek  ! 

He  speaks  :  "  Moscoso !  no  return 
Shall  make  me  conquer  more  ; 

Ambition's  fires  have  ceased  to  burn — 
Farewell  my  native  shore  ! 

To  mortal  man  I  never  bowed. 

But  now  I  meet  Jehovah's  rod  I 

"  In  my  own  river,  folded  round 

With  Castile's  banner  wide, 
In  midnight's  hour  and  shades  profound, 

Entomb  nie  in  its  tide ; 
Consign  me  to  the  wave-walled  tomb, 
With  lighted  torch  and  roll  of  drum. 

•'  Unpaled  by  man,  unknown  to  fear — 

Alone,  O  let  me  sleep  ! 
The  conqueror — discoverer 
2 


i8  CREATION. 

Desires  no  eye  to  weep, 
That  Soto's  watery  grave  was  made 
Far  west  of  Florid's  everglade  ! 

"  Moscoso  !  hear,  my  follower  brave, 

My  dying  words  obey  ; 
Cross  not  the  wilderness ;  the  wave 

More  safely  shall  convey 
The  remnant  of  my  people  back 
From  this  illusive,  dangerous  track  !  " 

He  from  his  withered  hand  withdrew 
An  ancient  massive  ring. 

And  while  his  lips  more  livid  grew, 
And  fainter  ebbed  life's  spring, 

Moscoso  reverently  wore 

The  pledge  De  Soto's  finger  bore. 

See  !  noiseless  through  the  tent 
A  savage  warrior  strides  ! 

His  plume  is  by  the  curtain  bent. 
The  wampum  girds  his  sides ; 

His  lineaments  with  war-paint  black, 

And  shades  of  death  are  in  his  track  ! 

A  Natchez  chief  of  vengeful  laws, 

His  tawny  neck  arrayed 
In  chains  of  bear  and  cougar's  claws, 

With  human  tresses  made. 
One  hand  sustains  a  war-pipe  red, 
The  other,  emblems  ever  dread, 

A  bunch  of  poisoned  arrows,  bound 
With  skin  of  rattle-snake. 


CREATION.  19 

He  broke  a  silence  deep,  profound 

As  noon  upon  a  waveless  lake, 
As  on  the  couch  the  gift  he  flung, 
Whooping  in  rage  his  native  tongue ! 

He  then  defiant  raised  the  pipe — 

No  calumet  oi peace — 
The  stern,  complete,  embodied  type 

Of  a  relentless  race  ! 
The  smoke  he  puffed  but  slowly  curled, 
For  Soto  lingered  in  the  world ! 

The  leader  saw  the  fearful  scene ! 

With  one  unearthly  tone. 
With  deathly,  unrelenting  mien 

His  arms  were  upward  thrown, 
He  clutched  the  covermg  of  his  bed 
As  though  'twere  lance  or  rapier  dread  ! 

With  one  fierce  bound  he  forward  sprung, 

His  features  flashing  fire, 
*'  St.  Jago ! "  "  Spain  !  "  "  De  Soto  !  "  rung 

With  stern  victorious  ire  : 
Then  death  the  struggle  made  complete, 
//<r/^// beside  the  Indian's  feet! 

A  flood  of  gore  from  mouth  and  eyes 

Too  truly  told  the  tale. 
"  Gone  !  "  "  (ione  !  "  Moscoso  cries  ; 

The  deep-eyed  maiden's  wail 
Rose  mournful  on  the  forest  air, 
As  o'er  him  fell  her  glossy  hair ! 


20  CREATION. 

Ambition  !  ruler  of  the  soul ! 

Fierce  monarch,  there  thou  art ! 
To  many  a  strange  uncertain  goal 

Thou  leadest  mind  and  heart ; 
Thou  wild  inspirer  of  the  breast, 
That  ever  after  feels  no  rest ! 

The  sun  had  sunk  o'er  wave  and  wild, 
The  noon  of  darkness  breathed 

In  tainted  damps  ;  bright  stars  were  piled 
High  up  the  vault,  and  wreathed 

The  ebon  brow  of  Night,  that  bade 

A  silence  chill  o'er  bluff  and  glade. 

Five  hundred  torches  flaming  red 

Illumed  the  funeral  track, 
While  holy  priest  with  censer  led 

The  train  o'er  waters  black, 
And  high  Te  Deum  anthems  rang. 
And  drums  sent  forth  a  muffled  clang. 

With  Spain's  gay  ensign  folded  round, 

Still  upright  as  in  life. 
With  sword  in  hand,  by  helmet  crowned — 

All  powerless  for  strife — 
The  dark  canoe,  with  silent  oar. 
The  corse  o'er  turbid  waters  bore. 

The  shades,  commingling  with  the  gleam. 
Sent  awe  through  every  man. 

Midv/ay  the  dark  sepulchral  stream, 
A  signal  from  the  van 

Sunk  in  the  flow  each  lurid  light. 

And  all  was  dark  as  Stygian  night. 


CREATION.  21 

As  down  the  lifeless  burden  fell, 

No  noisy  splasli  was  heard ; 
O'er  rippling  wave  or  distant  dell 

Went  forth  no  echoing  word, 
But  slowly  turned  each  fragile  bark 
To  face  the  spectral  dangers  dark. 

The  wild  beasts  roaming  far  and  near 

Awoke  their  sullen  roar ; 
And  Indian's  in  their  coverts  drear 

Felt  Soto  was  no  more  ! 
Still  moved  the  Mississippi  on 
As  calmly  as  through  ages  gone. 

Let  Fame  around  the  flushing  brow 

Of  Genius  laurels  bind  ; 
Let  dusty  volumes  treasure  how 

Old  heroes  led  mankind, 
How  Caesar  conquered,  Alfred  reigned, 
The  glories  Alexander  gained ! 

Let  martyrs  bleed,  let  poets  sing, 

And  Luther  wake  the  world  ; 
Beside  their  memories  proudly  spring 

Prophetic  scrolls  unfurled 
By  Soto,  o'er  the  mi^^hiiest  stream 
That  ever  caught  a  starry  gleam  / 


HISTORY  OF   JOSEPH. 

(illustrated) 
A  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 


INTRODUCTION 


This  Drama  was  composed  for  the  especial  use  of  Piscataquog 
Sunday  School,  city  of  Manchester,  New  Hampshire,  soon  after  its 
organization  ;  the  avails  to  be  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  a  Sun- 
day School  Library.  By  special  request  it  was  enacted  several 
times  in  the  city— three  times  in  the  Piscataquog  Church,  and 
once  in  a  large  public  hall  on  the  east  side  of  the  Merrimac  river. 
A  present  was  made  of  the  avails  of  one  evening  to  the  pastor, 
and  the  balance  was  much  more  than  was  needed  for  the  Sunday 
School  Library.  The  Drama  was  published  in  the  Manchester 
Mirror ;  called  for  and  used  by  Sunday  Schools  of  the  different 
denominations  in  most  of  the  North  Eastern  States.  In  Coventry, 
Rhode  Island,  it  was  twice  brought  out  on  different  evenings  by 
one  Sunday  School,  which  received  of  the  net  avails  sufficient  to 
purchase  an  entire  new  library  (sending  their  old  books  to  a  newly 
formed  Sunday  School  of  the  West),  and  they  deposited  fifty  dollars 
in  bank  for  their  future  use. 

It  requires  about  twenty-five  mature,  or  nearly  mature,  young  men 
and  women,  thirteen  or  fourteen  of  whom  should  be  good  speakers; 
fourteen  children  between  8  and  I2,  about  half  of  whom  should  well 
comprehend  the  subject. 

The  whole  or  parts  of  the  drama  may  be  read  with  much  interest 
at  Sunday  School  concerts.  For  its  complete  success,  however,  it 
requires  a  small  scenic  arrangement.  Drapery  is  used  for  cos- 
tumes— cheap  muslin  cloth  worn  over  a  common  dress,  with  or  with- 
out a  belt,  for  the  males,  extending  almost  down  to  the  knee ;  for 
the  females,  a  little  below.  Color  of  cloth,  pink  for  the  Hebrews  ; 
blue  for  the  Egyptians,  with  a  sash ;  coat  for  Joseph  of  many  colors 
of  the  same  material.  It  will  be  remembered,  the  drama  presents, 
as  does  the  Scriptures,  Joseph  the  boy  just  ripening  into  manhood, 
and  Joseph  the  man  clothed  in  royalty.  A  very  small  outlay  is 
needed. 


SCRIPTURAL    DRAMA. 

ILLUSTRATION  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF  JOSEPH  TWO    ACTS, 

N'lNE    SCENES. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Jacob. 

Lf.ah,      i  Wives  of  f.icob,   and 

Zu.pn.\,   >     the  mothers  of  his 

BlLHAH,  )     children. 

Dinah,  daughter  of  Jacob. 

Tam.vr,  daughter-in-law  oi  Judah_ 

Reuben, 


Malva,     ^ 

DiANTHA,  I  Egyptian  maidens  of 


Simeon, 
Levi, 

JUDAH, 

issachar, 
Zebulun, 
Gad, 

ASIIER, 

Dan, 


Sons  of  Jacob,  their 
mother  Leah. 


Sons  of  Jacob,  their 
mother  Ziipha. 

?  Sonsof  Jacob.their 
Nai'HIALI,  5      mother  Bilhah. 

Joseph,        }  Sons  of  facob,  thei"" 
Benjamin,  )      mother  Rachel. 

Ishmachtes — From  Midian. 

Arvilla,  (^Syptian  maidens  of 

Senora,    (     ''^^    Household  of 
)     Joseph. 


Cela, 

Erata, 

Dora, 

Sarah, 

Abel, 

Tela, 

AVA, 

PHAKIS, 

TiKZAH, 

Era, 
Laban, 
Ara, 
Mora, 

M  K  lA, 

Nina, 

Onana, 

Ala, 


the  household  of 
Potiphar. 


Grandchildren       of 


J^ 


J 


Jacob. 


Herald — in  Egypt. 
Officers,  Guards — in  Egypt. 


PROLOGUE  TO  THE   HISTORY  OF  JOSEPH. 

To  kindle  into  flame  the  realm 

Of  virtue,  and  to  weave 
A  garland  to  adorn  the  brows 

Whicli  Hope  and  Life  receive; 
To  render  Truth  more  lovely  still, 

And  Sin,  the  child  of  hell, 
More  hideous  than  Milton's  fiends 

Which  in  the  darkness  (iwell ; 
To  wake  the  soul  by  dint  of  art, 


24  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

To  kindle  genius  bright, 
To  lead  to  God,  to  mend  the  heart. 

To  make  us  bold  in  right, 
To  show  the  contest — Life  and  Death — 

As  grappling  midst  the  din 
Where  human  nature  falls  and  sinks 

In  trespasses  and  sin  ; 
To  show  the  power  of  God  to  crush, 

To  blend  in  Ruin's  grave 
Man's  counsels — yet  to  raise  and  crown 

His  purposes  to  save  : 
We  write  these  facts,  we  paint  these  truths. 

With  plain  dramatic  pen  ; 
The  part  dressed  in  the  garb  of  life 

Returns — instructs  again  ! 
Seven  hundred  to  three  thousand  joined. 

Of  years  in  Time's  array, 
Have  swept  the  chords  of  Life :     In  these 

We've  reached  this  proud  to-day, 
We  back  take  up  the  line  of  march  ; 

At  present  lay  aside 
Our  looms,  our  spindles,  plows  and  mills, 

Our  steamboats,  railroad  ride, 
Our  engines,  cable-telegraphs. 

Our  lightning  wires,  our  oils — 
Petroleum,  kerosene  and  whale  ; 

Hoops,  basques  and  waterfalls. 
Dim-shadowed  Past !     Ah,  distant  age  ! 

Where  patriarchs  only  trod  ! 
Where  Science  shed  no  lucid  ray, 

Men  lived  and  walked  with  God  ! 
They  took  life's  weary  burden  up. 


SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA.  25 

They  toiled  in  faith-born  prayer, 
And  drank  of  sorrow's  bitter  cup, 

They  hid  their  treasures  there, 
•     *     *     *     In  heaven. 
E'en  now,  while  we  shall  strive  to  please, 

Will  not  sweet  spirits  deign 
Down  from  the  blest  descending  skies 

To  mingle  in  our  train  ? 
Ah,  yes !     Kind  friends,  we  now  personify 
The  patriarchal  host  of  Canaan,  and  descry 
Both  those  \\\\o/en,  and  those  \i\\o  finnly  passed 
In  self-denying  kindness  to  the  last. 
In  history,  thus,  you'll  find  this  blessed  lore, 
That,  not  to  breathe,  is  not  to  be  no  more  ! 
The  good  man  fails  not  with  his  failing  breath. 
But  lives  a  green  vitality  in  death. 

ACT  I. 
Scene   i. — Canaan.     Enter  V>\\Mk\\  and Zw.vkk. 

Z. — The  peace  which  has  our  house  so  blessed. 
Will  soon  now  pass  away. 

B. — Why  ?     Ziljjha,  why  ?     V.\\\  is  ever  in  thine  eye. 

Z. — This  time  'twill  come — there's  no  mistake. 

B. — What  is  it  now  ?    Why  so  secret — so  assured  ?    Oh, 
why  ? 

/■ — That  young,  tlial  vain,  proud  fool  who  has,  alas  ! 
Gained  all  his  Father's  love — Rachel's  pet  boy, 
Is  lighting  f^imes  of  strife  between  my  sons, 
And  thy  .sons,  and  their  Father!     Aye,  Lying! 
Yes,  lying  to  gain  his  own — his  cursed  will  ! 
Would  that  his  mother  had  passed  off  before 


26  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

The  mandrakes  she  had  found.     The  House 

Would  not  been  cursed  with  her  pet  brat. 
B. — O  Zilpha !  say  not  such  words  of  my 

Loved  Mistress  dear,  and  her  first  born. 

No  word  of  hate  from  her  kind  Ups  e'er  fell ; 

She  died  in  love  and  peace. 
Z. — Did  she  not  steal  the  love  of  Jacob  from 

My  Mistress  Leah  ?     Answer  tne  that. 

No,  Zilpha,  no;  Rachel  was  \\\%  first  love  : 

Cheated  by  Laban,  Leah  was  Vx?,  first  wife  : 

He  treated  Leah  well ;  but  Rachel  had 

His  love.     Here  Leah  comes. 

Enter  Leah. 

Z. — What  theme  so  interests  you  ? 

Z. — I  say  thy  sister  stole  thy  husband's  love 
From  thee.     You  never  did  receive  it  as 
You  ought.     I've  seen  it  ever  suice  the  day 
You  wed.     All  eyes  must  see  it  if  they  were 
Not  blind!     She  says  he  ne'er  did  love  thee,  but 
Has  used  thee  well!  I  say,  ill  treatment  'twas 
To  thus  withhold  his  love. 

L. — Well,  Bilhah,  what  hast  thou  to  say  ? 

B. — I  say  these  evils  do  exist.     They're  not 

Thy  husband's  fault.     The  country's  laws  are  bad- 
Polygamy  exists ;  for  no  one  can 
Two  masters  serve.     The  same  of  wives — he  will 
Love  one,  the  other  hate;  or,  one  will  have 
The  first  or  chiefest  love.     The  laws  are  bad, 
And  troubles  always  spring  from  such  a  base. 

Z. — I  must  believe  Bilhah  is  in  the  right 

Z. — Weil,  right  or  wrong,   I  know  it  is  too  bad 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  .     27 

To  have  the  Father  think,  what  that  boy  does,  and 

says 
Is  right.     The  mischief-making  cub  !  I'll  let 
Gad  know  what  he  is  at ;  and  your  sons,  too, 
Bilhah,  will  join  to  squelch  his  lies. 
B. — O  Zilpha  !     On  your  soul's  peace  be  careful  what 
You  do  or  say  !  Joseph  I  know  too  much 
Is  petted  by  his  Father  dear.     But  think, 
Born  late  in  life,  his  mother  dead,  and  he 
A  child  most  amiable — more  so  than  mine; 
You  must  admit  he  is  more  so  than  thine. 
Z. — 1  will  admit  the  truth  of  no  such  thing. 
My  Gad  and  Asher  are  as  good 
As  any  boys,  although  their  mother  is 
A  servant  heie  in  Jacob's  house  !     Better 
Boy  than  mine  !    The  sheep-faced  brat ! 
Sure,  Bilhah,  sure,  thy  mistress  was 
An  angel  bright !      Her  son  a  seraph,  sure  ! 
B. — O  Zilpha,  dear !  do  not  be  angry  ;  strive 
To  quench  the  fire  rather  than  fan  the  flame. 
How  pleasant  to  dwell  in  the  household  of  peace ! 
"  Whatever  broils  disturb  the  street 
There  should  be  peace  at  home  ; 
Where  brothers  dwell  and  sisters  meet 
Quarrels  should  never  come  " 
Z. — O  Zilpha!   Bilhah  is  in  the  right;  for  bad, 
And  only  bad,  will  come  if  you  fire  up 
The  elder  boys.     You  know  the  blaze  of  Uan  and 
Gad ! 
Z. — Gad  is  no  worse  than  are  the  rest ;  an  insult 

He  will  never  take.     For  that  1  always  him  com- 
mend. 


28  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 

L. — No;  Gad's  no  worse  than  are  the  rest. 
But,  after  all,  it  is  not  clear  that  Joseph 
Should  be  blamed.     Just  what  they  did 
He  only  told !     Was  that  wrong  ?     Was  it  ? 

Z. — Wrong  ?     Yes,  'twas  wrong.     I  hate  tell-tales 
And  every  class  of  mischief-makers  mean. 
Wherever  they  are  found. 

L. — But  Jacob  had  a  right  to  know,  I'm  sure ; 
And  Joseph  told  the  truth  ! 

Z. — You  both  may  justify  this  household  curse, 
But  'twill  not  save.     Trouble  is  coming  still, 
And  I  rejoice.     Yea,  earnestly  do  pray 
That  it  will  yet  clear  off  that  petted  cub. 

B. — Should  that  be  Joseph's  fate,  God's  love 

And  blessings  will  attend  him  wheresoe'er  he  go  ; 
Such  piety  and  virtue  will  call   down  from  Heaven 
Bright  guardian  Spirits,  which  shall  watch  and  guide 
His  footsteps  in  the  paths  of  Truth  and  Love. 

Enter  Sarah. 

S. — O  Aunties  !  did  you  see  the  beautiful,  nice  coat 

Which  grandfather  has  made  for  Joseph  ? 
B. — No  ;  has  he  ? 
S. — Yes;  all  over  it  has  spots  of  red. 

And  blue,  and  white.     O,  most  lovely  ! 
B. — O  grief!  'twill  kindle  envy,  and 

'Twill  stir  up  strife. 
Z. — Good ;  I'm  glad  !  It  is  coming  as  I  said  ! 
S. — So  we  are  all  glad  of  it.     Joseph  is 

So  good — so  kind — so  lovely — we  are  glad 

He  has  such  a  beautiful  coat. 
Z. — Fool !     (  Turns  away  in  disgust.) 


SCRIPTURAL    DRAMA.  29 

B. — May  Abraham's  God  protect  and  save 

Us  all  from  danger.  [Exeunt  Omnes.] 

Scene  II. — Canaan — Enter  Gad  and  Dan. 

G. — Did  you  know  the  reports  of  our  conduct  which 
have  come  to  our  father's  ears,  Dan  ? 

D. — No.     Who  has  told  him  ? 

G. — His  spy,  I  suppose. 

Z).— What,  Joseph  ? 

a— Yes. 

D. — Did  he  tell  him  all  —  that  we  sold  the  goats  and 
took  the  money  ? 

G. — I  think  so.  My  mother  said  he  h.id  been  talking 
to  Jacob,  and  she  heard  say,  "the  goats  were 
not  killed,  as  they  told  you." 

D. — Did  he  tell  Jacob  we  tried  to  bribe  him  by  giving 
him  a  part  of  the  money  ? 

G. — I  presume  he  told  Jacob  every  thing  he  could  with 
the  least  shadow  of  truth.  The  dog!  I'll  be 
revenged  on  him  yet. 

D. —  I  confess,  Gad,  I  feel  ashamed  of  what  we  did  ; 
and  when  we  tried  to  bribe  Joseph,  and  he  so 
firmly  refused,  I  never  felt  so  small  in  my  life. 
He  is  a  faithful  boy,  I  know,  but  I  can't  endure 
him.  Jacob  loves  him  more  than  all  ten  of  us 
put  together. 

G. — I  see  it  all,  and  I'll  be  revenged  on  that  young  mis- 
chief-making cub,  as  my  mother  calls  him. 

jC^«/^rJUDAH,Sl.MEON,  ReUUEN,  IsSACHARfl//// NaPHTALI. 

yu. — Dan  and  Gad — What  is  the  conference  now  ? 

Have  you  our  lather  seen  ? 
G. — You  have  no  f.ither,  Jud.ih.     No  one  of  us  has  a 

father.  Jacob  is  living,  but  is  no  longer  a  father 


30  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

to  any  one  but  Joseph.     He  is  his  father's  dar- 
ling, and  the  young  brat  fills  his   father's  ears 
with  evil  reports  of  us  all. 
yu. — I  am  aware  of  this.     Our  father  seems 

Beside  himself.     He's  not  the  man  he  was 
In  former  years.    That  boy  has  just  received  a  coat, 
^  More  worth — more  cost  than  all  the  clothes 

He  ever  gave  to  me.     Skins,  dressed  of  goats, 
Of  sheep,  coarse  made,  are  all  we've  had  to  wear. 
His  favorite  son  can  wear  skins  variform — 
Of  leopard  bright,  the  ounce,  the  genet,  fine, 
All  beautifully  dressed — arranged  ! 
Oh  !  'tis  sad,  my  brethren  dear — cruel,  unjust. 
vS.  —  This  will  lead  to  dreadful   consequences   yet.     I 
have  sworn,  and  Levi  has  sworn,  and  Judah 
has  sworn. 
G.  —  And  Oad  will  swear. 
D.  —  And  Dan  will  swear. 
R.  —  To  what,  Simeon  ?      To  what   are  you   binding 

yourselves  by  an  oath  ? 
Is.  —  What  will  become  of  the  inheritance  by  and  by  ? 
Will   Jacob,   do    you    suppose,  give   it   all   to 
Joseph  ? 
Ju. — As  is  the  outlook  now,  this  love  engrossed 

Will  sweep  the  whole  estate,  which  eke  belongs 
To  all,  into  the  hands  of  o?ie  !  and  thus 
We  all,  with  wives  and  children  dear,  must  seek 
Our  fortunes  in  the  wide,  wide  world. 
Is. — If  this  is  so,  then  Issachar  will  swear. 
R. — What  is  the  oath,  Judah,  to  which  you  are  all  bind- 
ing yourselves  ?  Will  you  tell  me  ?      Perhaps  I 
will  take  it  also. 


SCRIPTl'RAl,    DRAMA.  31 

yu. — O  Reuben  !     You  could  never  hold  one  mind 
For  half  a  day.     If  you  the  oath  should  take 
To-day,  to-morrow  you'd  repent.     But  hush  ! 
There  comes  the  two  of  whom  we  speak. 

.^V. — Speak  them  kind — kind  words,  with  burning  hearts 

Enter  Jacob  and  Joseph. 

ya. — Hail,  my  dear  children  !  are  our  flocks  and   herds 

all  well  cared  for  ? 
yu. — E'en  truly  so,  my  father  dear ;  your  sons, 
Obedient  to  your  will,  have  watched 
The  shepherds  and  the  flocks,  and  now  await 
Your  voice  to  hear. 
ya. — Joseph  tells  me  that  last  night  he  dreamed  a  dream. 
As  we  are  all  together 
I  should  like  to  have  him  repeat  it. 
'j^fl. — "  Hear,    I    pray   you,   this  dream   which    I    have 
dreamed.        For    behold,    we    were     binding 
sheaves  in  the  field,  and  my  sheaf  arose  and 
stood  upright ;  and  behold,  your  sheaves  stood 
round  about,  and  made  obeisance  to  my  sheaf." 
All  Bios. — Shalt  thou  indeed  reign  over  us  ?    Shalt  thou 

have  dominion  over  us  ? 
yo. — I  know  not  what  they  portend.  Jie  not  angry,  my 
brothers ;  how  can  I  be  blamed  for  the  dreams 
which  fill  my  mind  when  asleep  ?  I  dreamed 
yet  another  dream.  Behold,  the  sun  and  moon 
and  eleven  stars  made  obeisance  to  me. 
ya. — What  is  this  dream  that  thou  hast  dreamed  ?  Shall 
I,  and  thy  mother,  and  thy  brethren  come  and 
bow  ourselves  to  thee,  to  the  earth  ?  Foolish 
boy  ! 


32  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

yo. — My  dear  father,  do  not  blame  me ;  I  do  not  make 
my  dreams.  They  come  and  go,  I  know  not 
how.  If  I  had  thought  it  would  have  dis- 
pleased thee  and  my  brothers  I  would  have 
kept  it  in  my  own  breast, 
J^a.- — I  know  thy  dreams  are  not  of  thine  own  making. 
My  dear  sons,  drive  our  flocks  to  Shechem  and 
to  Dothan  ;  you  will  find  at  this  season  abund- 
ant pasturage  there.  (7t?  J^oseph.^  Come, 
Joseph,  let  us  go.  [Exil  Jacob  a?ici  Joseph.] 
y^u. — Who  ever  heard  before  such  impudence, 

Barefaced  and  bold,  yet  dressed  in  truth's  disguise 
Of  modest  piety  ! 
G. — My  blood  boiled  within  me  to  strike  the  young  cub 

to  the  earth. 
D. — A  serpent's  fang  will  yet  strike  him  down,  fear  not. 
R. — In  what  is  he  to  blame  ?     How  can  he  control  his 
dreams  ?     I  have  no  more  wish  than  you  to 
bow  unto  him  ;   but  what's  a  dream  ? 
y^n. — A  vision  of  the  night,  in  which  our  God 
Shows  forth  the  destinies  of  time.     You  ask, 
**  Can  he  his  dreams  control  ?  "     We  will  do  that. 
The  oath  which  we  have  sworn  will  do  this  thing. 
Let's  now  to  Dothan,  [Exeunt  O/unes.] 

Scene  3. — Canaan.     A  Tent  in  Dothan.     Enter 
Reuben  and  Gad. 

R. — I  really  regret  that  you  and  the  brothers  are  deter- 
mined to  destroy  Joseph,  Gad.  The  curse  of 
Abraham's  God  will  follow  you.  "  Whoso 
sheddeth  man's  blood  by  man  shall  his  blood 
be  shed." 


I 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  33 

G. — And  who  will  there  be  to  shed  it  ?  except  you,  per- 
haps, and  you  are  too  chicken-hearted  for  that. 
Jacob  is  the  prince  of  our  household ;  do  you 
suppose  he  would  doom  nine  of  his  sons  to 
death  ?  But  suppose  he  did,  what  should  we 
care  ?  Judah  has  more  influence  with  the  serv- 
ants than  he  has ;  so,  Reuben,  who  will  be 
our  executioners  ? 

R — God  will  be  a  just  avenger  of  wrongs,  Gad,  and  will 
bring  your  heads  low  before  his  avenging  arm. 

G. — \\€\\  risk  that.  I  know  nor  care  very  little  for  any 
God;   I  know  and  care  more  for  men. 

R. — O  Gad  !  Are  you  so  far  gone  in  unbelief?  Did 
not  God  speak  to  our  father  Jacob,  saying,  "  I 
am  the  God  of  Abraham,  and  of  Isaac  "?  Did 
he  not  at  Bethel  see  a  ladder  reaching  to 
heaven,  and  angels  ascending  and  descending  ? 

G  — All  nonsense  ?  The  imaginings  of  superstit 

nations  around  us  have  gods  just  as  good  as 
ours.  Some  worship  the  sun  ;  some  the  ox  ; 
others  the  cat — all  superstition! 

R. — And  this  is  infidelity  and  its  fruits.     First,  disbelieve 
in  God ;  next,  hate  his   brother,  and  last,  mnr- 
der  hmi  ?     Step  by  step  from   heaven  to  h 
O  Gad  !  what  an   awful  precipice  you  are  de- 
scending ! 

G. — Poh  !    Superstitious  fool !    Take  care  of  yourself;  I 

know  what  I  am  doing. 
R. — And  you  will  murder  that  innocent  boy  ? 
G. — Yes,  will   1.     Wiic'never  he  comes   to    Dothan,   he 
NEVER,  NEVER  gocs  back  lo  his  father  again. 
3 


34  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

H. — I  shall  go  immediately  for  our  homes  and  warn  him 

of  his  danger. 
G. — Then  the  same  fate  awaits  both  you  and  him.     Do 

you  think  we  are  to  be  defeated.    Neither  God 

nor  man  shall  avert  our  purpose.     That  young 

divinity  of  our  father  dies  ! 
iP. — Blasphemous  boy !     The   God  which   you  despise 

could  strike  you  dead  ;  and   he  will   preserve 

Joseph  from  your  murderous  hand,  and  watch 

in  love  over  his  footsteps. 

Enter  Isachar,  Zebulon,  Asher,  Dan  and  Naphtali. 

G. — Hail,  brothers  !     Any  news  from  home  ? 

D. — I  saw  a  shepherd  yesterday,  who  said  that  Joseph 

left  for  Shechem,  and  he  will  probably  be  here 

to-day. 
G. — We  must  keep  a  good  out-look  on  this  side  of  the 

glebe,  and  send  the  servants  to  the  other  side. 

Does  Judah  know  this  ?     But  here  he  comes. 

Enter  Judah,  Simeon  ajid  Levi. 

Do  you  know,  Judah,  that  Joseph  is  expected  here 
to-day  ?     It  will  afford  a  fine  opportunity. 

^u. —  No.  I  recoil  from  the  deed,  and  yet  it  must  be 
done. 

D. — Or  bow  our  necks 

Is. — Or  lose  our  inheritance.      ... 

A. — Or  lose  all  our  fat  herds 

Z. — Or  lose  all  our  seaports,  which  will  yet  make  us  a 
great  people 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  35 

G. — Away  with  your  nonsense  of  inheritance,  and  fat 
herds,  and  seaports  ;  I  hate  him  !  I  hate  him, 
and  it  shall  be  done  ! 

5. — Yes,  Gad  ;  that's  the  tune  for  these  times  ;  keep  the 
pitch,  don't  flat ! 

L. — Yes,  Gad,  put  it  through.      I  will  stand  by  you. 

jhu. — Well,  I  shall  stand  by  you,  but  I  abhor  the  deed 
and  dread  the  consequences.  What  say  you, 
Reuben  ?  You  are  one  of  us.  Will  you  share 
in  this  most  desperate  deed  to  save  yourself 
and  family  from  the  yoke  of  servitude  ? 

R. — I  have  half  a  mind  to  join  you. 

G. — That  is  as  much  mind  as  you  ever  had. 

y^u. — I  know,  Reuben,  it  is  a  dreadful  alternative  to 
muriler  our  brother;  but  to  bow  ourselves,  and 
leave  our  sons  and  daughters  slaves  to  that 
strippling  boy,  is  insupportable!  But  yonder 
the  dreatner  comes. 

Enter  Joseph. 

'yo. — Hail!  brethren,  hail !   May  joy  and  peace  abide. 

Your  wives,  your  little  ones  are  well,  and,  with 

Our  father  dear,  all  send  their  warmest  love. 

Are  you  in  health  ?     Judah,  methinks 

You  look  quite  pale !  and  all  seem  not  as  wont ! 

Why  those  dark  frcjwns  ?    Judah,  my  brother,  why  ? 

You  were  always  wont  to  speak  in  love. 

Dear  brother  (jad,  why  look  so  angry  ?      Why 

So  fierce  ?     Give  me  your  hand  ! 
G. — Stand  back,  base  wretch !  Speak  what  you  will,  for 
death  will  soon  seal  up  your  eyes. 


36  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

yo. — Oh  !  why  is  this  ?     Protect  me,  Judah  !     Oh  ! 

What  have  I  done  to  call  on  me  your  hate  ? 

Our  father's  God  doth  know  that  I  have  loved 

You  all,  and  shall  still  love,  do  what  you  will 

To  me. 
S. — Gad,  stop  nis  prating ;  do  your  work. 

(Gad  advances  with  a  club  ;    Judah  interferes.) 

yu. — Let  the  toy  have  time  to  send  a  message  to  our 

father  ;  withhold  thy  blow,  Gad ! 
G. — "Send  a  message  to  our  father !"  Judah,  you  are 
bewildered.     Isn't  our  father  to  understand  he 
is  killed  by  a  wild  beast  ? 
J^o. — Oh,  save  me,  brothers,  from  this  dreadful  death  ! 

Oh,  save  me  for  my  poor  old  father's  sake ! 

Oh,  save  me  for  my  little  brother's  sake ! 

Save  me,  that  I  may  love  you  all,  and  do  you  good. 

Oh,  Judah,  think  how  once  I  saved 

Your  little  Er  and  Onan  from  the  bear, 

And  brought  them  safely  home! 

And  will  you  now  stand  by  and  see 

My  brother  Gad  dash  out  my  brains  ? 
R. — Brothers,  you  know  that  deep,  dark  pit 

Upon  the  mountain's  side  ?     From  thence 

No  man  or  beast  could  ever  come  alive. 

Let's  place  him  there.     Death  soon  will  do 

Its  work,  and  leave  our  hands  unstained 

With  Ijrother's  blood. 
G. — No ;  let's  do  the  work 

We  have  begun,  effective  and  complete. 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  37 

5^M. — Gad,  Reuben  counsels  well.     Lei's  do 

As  he  has  said,  and  then  our  brother's  blood 
Will  not  our  hands  defile,     (io,  Reuben,  go 
And  bring  the  cord  by  which  the  youngling 
May  be  bound  and  cast  into  the  pit.  [£xU  Reuben.] 

Z. — But  who  are  those  approaching  from  the  North  ? 
Say,  are  they  travelers  o'er  the  desert  to  the  Sunny 
South  ? 

yu. — Yes,  that  they  are;  and  now, 

My  brothers,  here's  a  thought  you  will  approve  : 
"  Let  us  sell  Joseph  to  the  Ishmaelites,  and  let  not 

our  hands 
Be  upon  him,  for  he  is  our  brother  and  our  flesh." 

G. — I  object ;   I  wish  to  make  the  thing  secure. 

yu. — So  do  we  all;  but  just  as  sate  a  bond   slave   in 

Egypt 

As  if  beneath  the  sod.     Do  any  object  ? 
G. — Yes,  I  object. 

S. — Yes,  Judah;  I'm  with  Gad;   I  object. 
yu. — What  say  you,  Levi  ? 
Z. — Sell  him;  anything  to  rid  us  of  his  presence. 
yu. — Dan,  you  have  not  spoken  yet. 
/J. — I  have  no  choice,  if  he  is  only  safe. 
yu. — Naphtali  and  Asher  ? 
A/". — Sell  him,  but  use  smooth  words, 

Nor  let  those  heathen  know  he  is  uur  brother. 
A. — I  shall  recommend  the  sale  as  best  by  far 

To  give  us  rest  and  quiet. 
yu. — There  are  six  for  the  sale,  two  against. 

And  Dan  is  on  the  fence. 

I  shall  close  the  sale.      Hut,  Joseph,  mark. 


38  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

If  one  word  you  speak,  xQvtzSmg  your  position  here 
To  us,  Gad's  club  shall  close  your  mouth. 
But  see,  they're  here. 

E?lter  ISHMAELITES. 

Hail,  strangers,  hail !  and  do  you  ever 

Purchase  boys  to  sell  for  slaves  in  your 

Own  native  land  ? 
Jsh. — Aye,  that  we  do. 

Have  you  some  lads  that  you  would  like  to  sell  ? 
y^u. — Yes,  here  is  one. 
Ish. — What !  that  young  princely  boy,  so  beautifully  clad 

In  that  bright  parti-colored  coat?     And,  sir, 

If  you  had  not  him  offered  us  for  sale 

I  should  have  thought  indeed  he  was  your  son, 

Or  sure  he  was  your  brother,  he  is,  good  sir. 

So  very  like  yourself !     But  sure  this  cannot  be, 

For  men,  though  in  a  wicked  world,  do  not 

Their  children  dear,  nor  brothers  sell. 

He  must  be  some  young  prince,  you  in 

The  wars  have  taken, 
"J^u. — 'Tis  true. 

Your  eye,  far-seeing,  has  discerned  the  truth ; 

But  all  this  matters  not,  he  is  our  boy. 

And  him  we  wish  to  sell — 

Sell  into  bondage  in  some  far-off  land. 

What  will  you  give  ? 
Ish. — We  can  offer  you  thirty  silver  marks. 
y^u.  — And  let  us  keep  the  coat  ? 
Ish. — Yes,  that  is  what  we  meant.     The  boy  we  buy. 

And  not  the  coat  and  boy. 
y^u. — Count  out  the  money ;  he  is  yours. 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  y) 

(IsHMAELiTES    cou/if    out   the    f/io/iey,    and  depart   with 

Joseph.) 

There,  now,  the  dreadful  work  is  done — 

There's  nought  of  Joseph  with  us  but  his  coat. 

But  O  !    how  dreadful  is  the  deed  we've  wrought ! 

My  soul  recoils  with  horror  at  the  thought. 

Oh,  my  dear  father  !     What  will  Jacob  say, 

Now  his  dear  son  is  torn  from  him  away  ? 

Who'll  kill  the  kid,  and  dip  the  coat  in  blood  ? 
6^.— I'll  do  that  deed. 
yu. — And  who  to  Jacob  will  the  coat  present  ? 

Far  off  may  Judah  be — far  off  from  his  lament. 
S. — I'll  take  the  coat  to  Jacob,  bloody,  rent  and  torn  ; 

He'll  think  a  wild  beast  hath  devoured  his  son. 

All  will  be  well. 

The  dreams  and  dreamer  we  shall  see  no  more. 
G. —  I  should  be  better  satisfied  if  his  blood  besmeared 
that  coat  than   a  kid's.      I  wish  now  he  was 
beneath  the  sods  of  Dothan.    \Exeunt  Omnes.\ 

Scene  4. — Canaan — Jacob's  House. 

Enter  Tamar  and   Dinah. 

T. — Are  you  aware,  Dinah,  of  the  bitter  feeling  against 
Joseph  in  the  minds  of  his  brethren  ? 

D. — I  know  something  of  it,  and  exceedingly  regret  the 
course  which  my  father  has  taken.  He  is  very 
partial  to  Joseph,  and  werd'it  not  for  his  amia- 
ble disposition  he  would  be  hated  by  the  whole 
household. 

T. —  This  springs  from  parental  partiality,  envy,  malice, 
revenge,  I  fear  murder. 


40  •     SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

D. — O,  no,  Tamar,  not  murder  !  It  cannot  come  to  that. 

T. — I  fear  it. 

D. — What,  murder  ? 

T.-r-\  do.  You  know  the  dreams  which  Joseph  told  the 
family  of  late.  It  is  talked  in  every  household. 
He  is  thought  to  be  aspiring  to  rule  over  his 
brethren. 

D — How  can  they  think  this  of  Joseph  —  so  kind,  so 
amiable,  so  modest,  so  virtuous  ? 

T. — They  believe  his  modesty  and  virtue  only  a  cloak 
for  his  ambition.  He  has  already  supplanted 
them  in  the  affections  of  the  father.  This  will 
lead  to  the  possession  of  all  the  inheritance, 
and  thus  he  will  easily  effect  his  purpose  — 
driving  them  out,  or  subduing  them  to  his  will. 

D. — This  is  all  false  reasoning  —  the  result  of  envy  and 
jealousy.  I  do  not  believe  such  an  idea  ever 
entered  the  mind  of  my  brother ;  nor  is  it  his 
wish  that  our  father  should  favor  him  above  the 
rest.  I  have  heard  his  kind  suggestions  rela- 
tive to  our  brothers.  He  has  no  wish  to  sup- 
plant them. 

T. — Perhaps  you  are  right,  but  his  brothers  fiel  very  dif- 
ferently, and  I  really  fear  he  will  never  come 
back  from  Dothan  whither  he  has  now  gone. 

D. — Why,  Tamar,  you  alarm  me  ! 

T. — There  is  cause,  for  alarm  ! 

D. — What  do  you  know  ?     Do  inform  me  ? 

T. — Nothmg,  Dinah,  but  dark  hints,  and  mysterious 
threats ;  and  these  signify  much  when  uttered 
by  Gad,  and  Dan,  and  Simeon. 


SCRIPTURAL    DRAMA.  41 

D. — Have  you  heard  anything  from  your  father-in-law, 

Judah  ? 
T. — No;  but  he  is  thoughtful  and  sad,  and  scarcely  smiles 

from  mornnig  to  night.     Something  lies  heavily 

on  his  mind. 

Enter  Jacob  and  Ala-Tei..a,  Mora  and  Ara. 

ya. — A  friendly  greeting,  daughters.  I  have  just  made 
the  tour  of  all  our  families,  and  looked  in  upon 
them  this  morning.  .VU  are  well.  What  man 
on  earth  so  happy  as  I !  What  family  so  blest, 
so  extended,  so  prosperous  as  ours  ?  Death 
has  made  Init  one  desolate  place  within  my 
heart ;  all  else  is  happy.  See  our  possessions 
extending  —  our  family  increasing,  and  peace, 
and  harmony,  and  brotherly  love,  in  all  our 
dwellings.  Truly  we  shall  realize,  and  that 
soon,  Jehovah's  promise  to  Abraham  :  "  I  will 
multiply  thy  seed  exceedingly,  that  it  shall  not 
be  numbered  for  the  multitude." 

T. — Sincerely  do  1  pray,  dear  father,  that  your  fondest 
hopes  will  be  realized  ;  but  you  know  the  thorn 
grows  near  the  rose,  dark  clouds  obscure  the 
light  of  day,  and  the  world  since  the  fall  has 
been  full  of  briars  and  thorns. 

^fl.— True,  Tamar,  true;  but  the  God  of  Bethel  once 
appeared  to  me,  and  1  have  never  doubted  his 
faithfulness  since.  His  word  is  sure.  I  know 
that  my  Redeemer  liveth ;  that  he  will  perlorm 
his  promise,  and  lake  me  to  his  rest. 


42  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

T. — True,  father ;  but  he  may  lead  you  through  vales  of 
sorrow  and  rivers  of  affliction  before  you  see 
that  rest. 

Enter  Simeon,  Leah,  Zilpha  and  Bilhah. 

ya. — What,  Simeon  !     Whence  comest  thou  ? 

S. — This  have   we  found  i^preseniing  the  bloody  coat  of 

Joseph)  ;    know  now,  whether  it  be  thy  son's 

coat  or  no  ? 
'ya. — It  is  my  son's  coat.     An  evil  beast  hath  devoured 

him.     Joseph  is,  without  doubt,  torn  in  pieces. 

\Exit  Simeon. J 
Ala. — Dear  grandfather,  maybe  he  got  away  and  only 

lost  his  coat. 
Tela. — Joseph  will  come  back  again,  grandfather. 
Mora. — Is  Joseph  lost  ? 
Ara. — Is  that  bloody  coat  Joseph's,  grandfather? 

(Jacob  seetns  fainting.^ 

T. — Faint  not,  dear  father,  nor  repine  at  the  dealings  of 

Jehovah.     Your  dear  son  now  hves  with  God ; 

earth  no  longer  holds  him  ;  he  lives  in  heaven. 
jfa. — O  comfort  me  not ! — comfort  me  not !     My  days 

are  like  a  weaver's   shuttle,  and  will  soon  pass 

away. 

Enter  Meta,  aged  16,  a7id  Pharis,  and  Nina,  and  Laban 

ajid  Abel. 

Met. — {7o  Zilpha)  Say,  aunty,  has  Joseph  gone  away? 
Z. — Hush !     Yes,  I  hope  so,  where  he  never  will  come 

back. 
Met. — Aunty,  where  has  he  gone  ?  What  is  the  trouble  ? 
Z. — Hush,,!  say. 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  43 

Met. — (7//r/////^/V7  Bilhah)  Aunt  Bilhah,  will  you  tell 
nie  where  Uncle  Joseph  has  gone  ? 

B. — Dear  child,  he  is  dead.  A  wild  beast  has  devoured 
him. 

Nina. — Was  it  a  bear  ? 

Z. — Oh,  Jacob,  be  comforted  !  You  know  how  you 
have  taught  us  all  to  trust  in  God  in  our  days 
and  hours  of  affliction.  Will  you  not — can  you 
not — apply  to  yourself  what  you  have  taught  to 
others  ? 

ya. — O  Leah,  this  overwhelms   me  with  anguish.     "  I 
\Vill  go  down  to  the  grave  to  my  son  mourn- 
ing." [Exeunt  Jacob,  Tamer,  Leah 
and  BiLHAH.] 

pilaris. — Meta,  is  Joseph  dead  ? 

Met. — Yei,  Pharis,  our  dear  Uncle  Joseph  is  killed  by  a 
wild  beast. 

Laban  — Was  it  a  bear,  a  lion,  or  what  ? 

Mi-t. — I   cannot  tell  you,   Laban.     You  saw   the  coat ; 
didn't  you  ? 

Liib. — Yes.     Where  is  Joseph  now  ? 

.\fet. — He  is  an  angel  in  heaven. 

Lab. — Has  he  got  wings  ? 

Met. — Yes,  I  suppose  so.     All  angels  have  wings. 

Lab. — Will  he  not  fly  down  here  some  lime  and  see  us  ? 
O,  I  wish  he  would  ! 

Met. — Perhaps  he  will ;  angels  sometimes  do  fly  down 
to  the  earth. 

Lab. —  Do  all  that  die  go  up  to  heaven  and  he  angels, 
Mcta  ? 

Met. — Yes;  all  the  good. 


44  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

Lab. — Then  my  little  kid,  that  fell  into  the  brook  and 
drowned,  and  Ara's  lamb,  are  little  angels  in 
heaven.     O,  I  wish  I  was  there. 

Met.—\  don't  know,  Laban,  about  kids  and  lambs  going 
to  heaven  and  being  angels. 

Lab. — You  said  all  the  good  went  there.  They  were 
good. 

Met. — I  meant  all  good  folks,  like  Uncle  Joseph. 

^^.^How  can  Joseph  be  in  heaven,  Meta  ?  The  beast 
that  killed  him  has  eaten  him  up,  all  but  his 
bones,  and  now  you  say  he  is  an  angel  up  in 
heaven,  and  got  wings.     It  cannot  be. 

Met. — It  was  his  body,  Abel,  that  was  devoured  by  the 
beast.  We  have  all  two  parts,  a  body  and  a 
soul;  Joseph's  body  is  dead,  and  the  beast  has 
eaten  it  up,  but  his  soul  still  lives  and  is  an 
angel  in  heaven. 

Ab. — Have  I  a  soul,  Meta  ? 

Met. — Yes,  Abel,  you  have  a  soul  and  a  body. 

Ab. — What  part  of  me  is  it  which  eats  ? 

Met. — It  is  your  body,  Abel,  which  eats  and  drinks. 

Ab. — Tell  me  what  my  soul  does,  Meta. 

Met. — Your  soul  thinks,  and  loves,  and  hates,  and  is 
pleased,  and  is  sorrowful ;  do  you  understand  ? 

Ab. — Yes,  I  think  I  do.  It  is  this  :  my  soul  thinks  of 
my  dinner,  and  then  my  body  goes  home  and 
eats  It. 

Met. — Exactly  so.  The  other  day,  when  I  was  at  your 
tent,  you  struck  Elmor.  Now,  you  see,  when 
your  soul  was  angry,  your  hand  struck;  when 
your  soul  is  pleased,  your  face  smiles ;  when 
grieved,  your  face  weeps. 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  45 

Ara. — What  do  they  do  in  heaven,  Meta? 

Af^f. — They  'ove  God  and  sing  his  praises. 

A/a. — Is  that  all  ? 

A/f/. — Perhajis  not ;  there  are  many  employments  lor  the 
soul  which  we  cannot  now  understand. 

Ara. — Do  they  have  harps  and  musical  instruments 
there  ? 

Aft/. — Yes,  I  think  they  do. 

Ara. — If  Joseph  should  come  back,  he  will  tell  us  all 
about  it  •   will  he  not  ? 

A/if/. — I  cannot  tell  you,  Ara.  Most  of  these  things  I 
know  but  little  about,  but  God  appeared  to  our 
great  grandfather,  Abraham,  and  told  him  many 
things — that  we  should  be  a  multitude  ot  peo- 
ple, that  we  shall  live  after  we  die,  that  the 
good  shall  be  happy,  and  the  wicked  miserable, 
and  many  other  things  which  I  cannot  remem- 
ber. 

Ara. — Will  there  be  trees  in  lieaven,  and  flowers,  and 
brooks,  and  green  grass  ? 

Aft/. — I  cannot  tell  you,  Ara,  but  I  think  so.  God  would 
never  have  given  us  these  desires  and  sources  of 
happiness,  if  they  were  not  to  be  gratified.  But, 
my  dear  cousins,  I  cannot  state,  as  a  certainty, 
many  of  these  things ;  we  must  all  live  by  faith. 

Ara. — How  is  that,  Meta  ? 

Aftr/. — Believe  tliat  God  will  do  ju.it  what  he  says  he 
will;  more  than  this,  that  he  will  give  us  and 
do  for  us  just  what  is  best. 

Ara. — O,  is  not  this  beautiful — to  believe  in,  and  trust  in 
such  a  God  !  Why,  Meta,  such  a  being  seems 
like  a    father — "  a    Father    in    Heaven  " — and 


46  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

our  Uncle  Joseph  has  gone  up  to  this  "  Father 
in  Heaven,"  and  when  up  there  he  will  remem- 
ber us  all,  and  love  us  all,  as  much  as  he  did 
when  he  was  down  here  with  us.  Maybe  he  is 
thinking  of  us  now,  and  looking  down  here. 
Can  he,  Meta,  can  he  look  down  here  and  see 
us? 

Met. — I  cannot  tell  you;  perhaps  he  can,  perhaps  not, 
he  cafi  certainly  remember  us  and  love  us. 

Ara. — My  soul,  the  part  of  which  you  have  been  teUing 
us,  Meta,  seems  inspired  to  sing  a  funeral  dirge 
to  our  dear  uncle  Joseph.     Come,  you  all  join 
V  ™e : 

Where  now  is  Joseph,  our  dear,  dearest  friend  ? 

Gone,  gone  away,  gone,  gone  away. 
Whence  now  shall  hope  and  shall  comfort  descend. 

Since  he  is  gone,  gone  away  ? 
Heaven  has  called  him  to  bid  us  adieu, 
Virtue  on  Earth  he  no  longer  pursues. 
Glory  is  ever  now  full  in  his  view, 

Since  he  is  gone,  gone  away. 
Lovely  on  earth  was  our  uncle  so  dear. 

Gone,  gone  away,  gone,  gone  away. 
Sweetly  and  kindly  he  soothed  every  fear, 

But  he  is  now  gone  away. 
Smiles  of  affection  beamed  forth  from  his  eyes, 
He  taught  us  the  pathway  of  glory  to  rise — 
How  to  ascend  from  the  earth  to  the  skies — 

But  he  is  now  gone  away. 
The  rose  drops  her  petals,  the  violet  her  head. 

He  is  away — gone,  gone  away. 


SCRIPTURAL    DRAMA.  47 

Sorrow  in  sackcloth  now  mourns  for  the  dead, 

Since  he  is  now  gone  away. 
The  vales  which  he  traversed  now  see  him  no  more  ; 
The  children — he  taught  them  their  God  to  adore — 
Alas !  are  now  left  on  this  desolate  shore, 

Joseph  is  gone,  gone  away.  \Exeunf  Omnes\ 

[end    of    act    I,    COMPRISING    4    SCENES.] 


PROLOGUE— SECOND  PART. 

Ah  Summer !  why  not  crown  the  opening  year  ? 

Ah,  why  withhold  the  sunshine  from  the  plains  ? 
The  chosen  tribes,  in  sadness  far  and  near, 

Wait  lingering  the  early  latter  rains. 
Genius  of  harvest !  must  the  festal  shrine 

Of  Salem  cease  ?     Her  songs  of  grateful  praise 
Be  hushed  and  heard  no  more  in  Palestine — 

Those  songs  of  faith  that  thrilled  their  childhood  days  ? 
The  answer  comes  not  in  the  thunder's  roar. 

Nor  yet  in  rain  drops  moist'ning  earth  in  love; 
Nor  yet  in  waves  that  break  along  the  shore. 

But  in  reponses  from  the  God  above. 
"Jacob!  sad,  suffering  son  of  sorrow,  hear! 

I  once  in  Bethel  spoke.     That  word 
Was  registered  in  heaven,  and  must  appear 

Though  worlds  are  shattered,  all  creation  stirred  I  " 
Thus,  friends,  we  move  m  God's  almighty  plan  ; 

Upon  the  Nile's  broad  banks  our  scenes  are  told; 
So  trace  with  us  God's  wonder-working  hand. 
As  truths  on  truths  in  startling  course  unfold. 


48  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 

ACT  II. 

Scene  i. — In  Egypt. —  The  house  of  Potiphar.     Enter 
Joseph  and  Malva. 

AI. — Joseph,  I  have  observed  that  you  never  go  to  our 
temples  of  worship  or  mingle  in  the  feasts  and 
dances  held  in  honor  of  our  gods.     Why  is  it  ? 
Do   you   not  worship  the  great  God  Osiris  in 
your  land  ? 
'y o. — No,  Malva,  no.     The  God  we  worship  made 
The  earth,  the  heavens,  the  dry  land  and  the  sea. 
Your  gods  are  idols  and  have  no  power. 
M. — O  you  wicked  boy  !     I  fear  that  our  mighty  god, 
the  great  Osiris,  will  pierce  you  through  with 
his  dreadful  horns  for  thus  mocking  his  power. 
Our  priests  relate  horrid  deeds  that  he  has  done 
in  his  anger.     O,  I  fear  for  you,  and  for  us  all, 
lest  his  wrath   and  curse  fall  upon  this  house- 
hold. 
Jo. — Malva,  fear  not.     The  ox,  your  god,  is  good 
For  labor,  toil  and  food ;  but  powerless  is 
For  life,  or  love,  or  hate. 
M. — O  Joseph,  if  you  could  hear  the  priests  relate  what 
he   has   done  !     Stopped  the  rains,  blasted  the 
corn,  sunk  vessels  in  the  sea,  raised  hurricanes 
and  storms,  overthrown  whole  armies. 
"jFo. — Malva,  I  cannot  longer  stay  ;   farewell  ! 

The  vineyard  calls ;  some  other  time,  not  now. 

\Exit  J^oseph.'] 

M. — (A/one.)  Oh,  how  dreadful   to   deny  the  power  of 

our  gods  !  How  I  pity  that  lovely  young  man, 

so  good,  so  kind,  so  intelligent,  so  obliging,  so 

faithful,  and  yet  an  unbeliever! 


SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA.  49 

Enter  Diantha,  Cela,  Erata  atid  Dora. 

D. — Why  so  wild  and  fearful,  Malva  ? 

M. — That  young  Hebrew  to  whom  Potiphar  has  en- 
trusted all  his  affairs,  who  is  steward  of  the 
house,  the  gardens,  the  lands — could  you  be- 
lieve it,  is  an  infidel ! — says  our  great  Osiris  is 
only  an  ox ! 

D — And  does  that  frighten  you,  Malva  ? 

E. — I  should  think  it  ought  to  if  it  doesn't. 

D. —  Does  it  frighten  you  ? 

E. — Frighten  me  !     Yes,  it  does  frighten  me. 

D. — You  do  not  look  very  much  frightened,  Erata  ! 
You  look  more  angry  than  frightened. 

E. — It  ought  to  make  every  one  angry.  A  young  He- 
brew upstart,  a  slave  —  to  speak  against  the 
gods  of  our  country  !  What  should  we  have 
been  but  for  Osiris,  the  great  son  of  the  mighty 
Jupiter  ?  Has  not  Orus  watched  over  the  Nile, 
causing  it  to  overflow  its  banks,  and  is  he  not 
the  Governor  of  the  world,  and  the  Author  01 
plenty  ?  Does  not  Isis  preside  over  our  corn, 
and  fill  our  houses  with  food,  bringing  to  our 
land  the  yellow  sheaves  filled  with  golden 
grain  ?     Do  not  the  gods  do  all  this,  Diantha  ? 

D. — Not  as  I  can  say,  P>ata. 

E. — .Not  as  you  can  say  !     Who  does  it,  then  ? 

D. — I  am  not  very  wise  in  such  matters.  I  know  we 
have  these  good  things  ;  but  I  should  sooner 
believe  that  Joseph's  God  was  their  author. 

M. — Joseph's  God  !  Diantha,  do  you  know  what  you 
are  saying  ?  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self— deny  the  gods  of  your  country  !  You  are 
4 


50  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 

wonderfully  smitten  with  this  young  Hebrew ! 
I  should  like  to  see  him  strung  up,  the  infidel 
dog  !  Corrupting  this  whole  household  and 
turning  them  to  infidels  ! 

C. — Why,  Erata,  how  angry  you  are !  It  seems  to  me 
if  the  gods  you  worship  were  good,  you  would 
not  get  so  angry.  That  young  Hebrew  whom 
you  wish  to  see  hung  up  never  gets  angry.  He 
is  mild,  and  true,  and  firm.  You  remember, 
Dora,  how  that  under-gardener  insulted  him 
the  other  day. 

Do. — Yes,  indeed,  I  do  ;  he  called  him  a  Hebrew  dog, 
and  a  Hebrew  calf,  but  not  one  word  of  retali- 
ation or  anger  came  from  his  lips. 

D. — The  God  that  such  a  good  man  worships  must  be 
the  true  God. 

E. — He  doesn't  worship  any  god. 

M. — Yes,  he  does,  Erata.  He  worships  something.  I 
dare  not  stay  here  [seefns  frightened).  Hark! 
didn't  you  hear  it  thunder  ? 

D. — Thunder !  No,  you  foolish  girl,  it  is  only  the  beat- 
ing of  your  own  heart. 

E. — I  tell  you  he  is  an  infidel,  and  he  will  bring  the 
anger  of  the  gods  upon  Potiphar  and  all  of  us, 
his  household.  The  hghtnings  and  thunders  of 
their  wrath  will  yet  be  poured  down  upon  us 
like  the  fires  which  burnt  up  the  regions  of  the 
.Upper  Nile  and  melted  old  Atlas  into  streams 
of  liquid  fire. 

M. — The  gods  preserve  me  !  What  shall  I  do  ?  I  wish 
I  had  never  come  here. 


SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA.  51 

D. — Do  not  be  so  fearful,  Malva.     You  see  Cela  and 

Dora,  younger  than  you,  are  not  afraid. 
E. — Those  that  know  nothing  fear  nothing.     I  should 
recommend,  Diantha,  that  you  and  your  com- 
pany build  a  temple  and   worship  the  young 
Hebrew. 

C. — I  should  quite  as  soon  do  that  as  worship  the  ox,  as 
you  do. 

D. — Take  care,  little  Cela,  or  your  anger  will  begin  to 
rise. 

C. — Those  that  know  nothing  fear  nothing,  and,  by  con- 
sequence, are  accountable  for  nothing;  so  you 
see,  Diantha,  I  shall  go  safe.  But  such  know- 
ing damsels  as  Erata — one  who  is  so  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  gods  that  she  can  number 
their  horns,  and  their  feet,  and  their  hoofs — 
must  walk  straight.     What  thmk  you,  Dora? 

Do. — I  do  not  know  ;  but  I  have  always  thought  that 
worshipping  good  gods  made  good  folks.  If 
this  is  true,  Joseph's  God  must  be  a  good  God, 
for  he  is  a  good  man. 

D — I  think  we  had  better  ask  him  in,  that  he  may  in- 
form us  more  of  his  God  and  his  religion.  Shall 
we  call  hiiu  in  ? 

M — I  beg  you  not  to  do  it;  he  will  surely  bring  some 
evil  upon  us. 

Do. — Do  ask  him  in  ;  I  love  to  hear  him  talk. 

E. — Do  as  you  please;  I  neither  love  nor  fear  him  ;  but 
I  hate  both  him  and  his  religion. 

D. — Go,  Dora,  and  call  him  in.  \^Exit  Dora. J 

1/ — The  gods  preserve  me.     I  dare  not  stay  in  his  pre- 
sence. \Exit  Malva. J 


52  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 

Enter  Joseph  and  Dora. 

3^<?. — Why  did  you  call  me  ? 

D. — We  would  like   to  know  of  you  concerning  your 
religion  and  the  God  that  you  worship. 

y 0. — One  God  I  serve  and  only  one.     I  bow 
Before  Jehovah,  God,  Creator,  Lord 
Of  earth  and  heaven. 

D, — Where  does  he  dwell  ? 

Jo. — A  Spirit.     He  all  space  pervades — earth,  heaven. 

D. — What  is  his  character  ? 

Jo. — God  is  love,  holiness,  truth,  purity,  power. 

D. — Has  he  given   you   any  commands,  and  what  are 
they? 

Jo. — Yes ;  God  requires  our  love  to  him, 
To  what  he  loves,  and  is. 

D. — What  influence  will  this  have  on  the  life  ? 

Jo. — Such  faith  will  make  believers  like  their  God  ! 

Mark  now  the  fact.    The  heathen  world  believes  in, 
Bows  to,  reveres  unholy  gods  ;  this  faith  attaints 
The  soul ;  makes  that  soul  like  the  god  it  serves. 
More  still — the  man,  body,  and  soul,  his  loves  and 

hates, 
Are  all  controlled  by  what  he  sees,  or  thinks 
He  sees,  within  his  God.     Hence  here  we  see, 
Direct  before  our  eyes,  unholy  worship 
Makes  unholy  men,  and  women,  too. 

D. — Have  your  ancestors  always  believed  this  ? 

Jo. — Not  so ;  our  ancestors  once  lived  far,  far 
From  this,  in  Ur.     God  called  to  Abraham, 
Four  generations  back,  and  said  to  him, 
"  Get  thee  out  of  thy  country,  and  from  thy  father's 
house,  into  a  land  which  I  will  show  thee." 


SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA.  53 

D. — Did  his  God  go  with  him  and  bless  him  ? 

yo. — His  blessings  sure  did  on  him  rest,  and  since 
Has  been,  as  God  declared,  "  his  shield,  and  his 
Exceeding  great  reward."     I  must  not  stay. 
Farewell!  [^.v/V  Joseph.] 

D. — Well,  Erata,  what  do  you  think  now  ? 

E. — Much  as  I  did  before  ;  he  is  an  infidel,  and  a  blas- 
phemer of  our  gods. 

C. — But  is  not  he  a  better  man  than  our  Egyptians  ? 

Do. — Does  he  not  show  more  love,  and  more  kindness, 
and  less  anger  than  our  Egyptian  men  ? 

E. — Well,  he  is  not  as  bad  as  he  might  be.  We  will 
talk  of  this  some  other  time.     [Exeunt  Omnes.] 

Scene  2. — In  Egypt. — ///  a  portion  of  the  Royal  Court, 
Enter  Naphtali  and  Issachar. 

N — This  lias  been  a  long  journey,  but  here  we  are  at 
last  in  Egypt. 

is. — An  expensive  journey,  too.  What  an  amount  of 
money  we  have  expended,  and  shall  have  to 
expend.     My  heart  groans,  being  burdened. 

N. — Groan  ;  yes,  you  will  groan  any  time  for  a  penny, 
faint  for  a  shilling,  and  die  for  a  pound. 

Is. — Well,  Naphtali,  I  know  the  worth  of  money  better 
than  you  do.  You  are  a  fool  to  waste  all  your 
time  in  hunting ;  you  had  better  mind  the  main 
chance,  and  lay  up  something  for  a  rainy  day. 

N.  —  I  had  rather  trust  rainy  days  to  rain  down  bread 
than  be  such  a  miserable  creature  as  you  are. 


54  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 

Enter  Dan,  Gad,  Asher,  Reuben,  Simeon,  Levi, 

ZeBULON  «;/fl^  JUDAH. 

D. — Stop  your  quarrelsome  tongues;  here  we  are  hun- 
dreds of  miles  from  home,  our  wives  and  chil- 
dren on  the  brink  of  starvation,  our  aged  father 
bowed  down  with  grief,  and  you  quarreling  and 
contending. 

N. — Really,  Dan,  this  is  amusing.  You  have  always 
■  been  a  wonderful  peacemaker  in  the  house  of 
Jacob.  You  have  been  ever  ready  to  quarrel 
and  fight  for  peace. 

R. — We  came  over  the  very  road,  I  expect,  which 
Joseph  traveled  twenty  years  ago.  Did  any  of 
you  think  of  that  as  we  came  on  ? 

D. — It  is  something  I  never  wish  to  think  of 

R. — What  if  we  should  meet  him  here  in  the  street. 
Think  you  we  should  know  him  ? 

D. — Reuben,  why  do  you  wish  to  be  ever  brmging  up 
that  unpleasant  subject  ? 

R. — I  do  not  see  why  it  should  be  unpleasant.  You 
have  always  justified  yourselves  and  say  you 
did  right.  When  I  do  right,  it  is  a  pleasant 
subject  to  me. 

D. — I  do  not  justify  myself.  I  wish  I  had  not  done  it. 
It  has  destroyed  my  peace  for  life,  perhaps  for- 
ever. 

A. — I  am  of  the  same  mind,  but  what  is  done  is  done. 

Enter  Herald. 

H. — His  Excellency,  the  Governor  of  Egypt,  is  approach- 
ing.    You  will  observe  the  custom  of  our  land, 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 


55 


and  with   uncovered  heads  bow  low  as  in  the 
presence  of  Pharoah.  [Exit  Herald.] 

yit- — Be  very  careful  to  obey  ;  our  life  depends  on  our 
behavior. 

Enter  Joseph  and  Retinue.     T/if  brethren  all  bow  low. 

yo. — I  learn  by  your  petition  you  have  come  from  a 
foreign  land  to  buy  corn.  From  what  country 
do  you  come  ? 

G. — From  the  land  of  Canaan,  to  buy  food. 

yo. — Ye  are  spies.  To  see  the  nakedness  of  the  land 
ye  are  ceme. 

G. — Nay,  my  lord,  but  to  buy  food  are  thy  servants 
come.  We  are  all  one  man's  sons ;  we  are 
true  men  ;  thy  servants  are  no  spies. 

'jfo. — Nay,  but  to  see  the  nakedness  of  the  land  ye  have 
come. 

G. — Thy  servants  are  twelve  brethren,  the  sons  of  one 
man  \  and  behold,  the  youngest  is  this  day  with 
our  father,  and  one  is  not. 

yo. — That  is  it  which  I  have  said  unto  you  :  ye  are  spies  ! 

G. — For  the  truth  of  what  I  have  said,  1  appeal  to  my 
elder  brothers. 

yo. — Send  one  of  your  number  and  bring  your  younger 
brother,  or  by  the  life  of  Pharoah,  ye  shall  not 
go  forth.  \Exit  ]b%^vy\  and  his  train.\ 

jfu. — We  are  very  guilty  concerning  our  brother,  in  that 
we  saw  the  anguish  of  his  soul,  when  he  be- 
sought us,  and  we  would  not  hear;  therefore, 
is  this  distress  come  upon  us. 

All. — {The  brothers  speak  at  once.)  Yes,  we  are  verily 
guilty,  iheretore   is  this  distress  come  upon  us. 


56  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

R. — Spake  I  not  unto  you,  saying,  sin  not  against  the 
child,  and  ye  would  not  hear ;  therefore  his 
blood  is  required. 

E7iter  Herald. 

H. — His  Excellency,  the  Governor  of  Egypt,  is  approach- 
ing ;  you  will  observe  the  customs  of  our  land, 
and,  with  uncovered  head,  bow  low  as  in  the 
presence  of  Pharaoh. 

Enter  Joseph  and  Retinue. 

jf  0. — Have  you  left  your  families  and  the  household  of 
your  father  well  supplied  with  bread  ? 

R. — No,  my  lord;  famine  was  staring  us  in  the  face,  and 
if  we  return  not,  our  aged  father,  our  younger 
brother,  and  all  our  wives  and  little  ones  will 
soon  die. 

yo. — Herewith  shall  ye  be  proved.  Let  one  of  your 
number  be  bound  in  prison  ;  and  as  for  you, 
get  you  in  peace  to  your  own  land,  and  bring 
your  youngest  brother  with  you.  {^To  the 
guards.')     Bind  that  man.    {They  bind  Simeon.) 

\^Exeu7it  Omnes.] 

Scene  3. — Canaan. — The  House  of  Jacob.     Enter 
Jacob  and  Dinah. 

ya. — Throughout  the  land  this  famine  far  extends ; 

Gloom  walks  the  streets,  and  hunger  sits  at  every  door . 

And  much  I  fear  that  my  ten  sons  will  fail 

In  Egypt  to  procure  a  full  supply. 

E'en  there,  where  plenty  reigns,  hunger's  dark  horde^ 

Will  soon  exhaust  supplies. 


SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA.  57 

D. — How  is  it,  dear  father,  that  there  is  so  much  corn 

in  Egypt,  when  there  is  none  elsewhere? 
ya. — Those  men,  with  whom  I  held  converse,  declared 
Egypt's  bold  Prince,  one  high  approved,  and  blest 
By  God — the  God  to  whom  he  bows — 
By  him  directed,  he  stored  up  the  corn 
In  plenteous  years,  against  the  time  of  dearth 
And  want. 
D. — Are  not  the  Egyptians  idolaters  ?      How  could  his 
God  give  him  the  spirit  of  prophecy  ?  None  but 
the  worshipper  of  Jehovah,  of  Abraham's  God 
can  receive  his  directions  and  imbibe  his  spirit" 
ya. — You  are  right.     'Tis  Abraham's  God  alone 
Who  gives  true  faith,  true  love,  true  holiness. 
And  thus  the  life,  the  soul  secures.    But  thus 
The  travelers  spake. 
D. — If  their  relation  is  true,  we  shall  find  that  this  Gov- 
ernor of  Egypt  is  a  worshipper  of  Abraham's 
God,  though,  by  some  cause,  living  in  an  idol- 
atrous land. 
ya. — This,  Dinah,  may  be  true.     But  now  'tis  time 

My  sons  return.     When  went  they  out  ? 
D. — Ves,  we  expect  them  to-day.     This  is  the  thirtieth 

since  they  departed. 
y a. — Anxiety  and  fear  disturb  my  mind 
Lest  on  the  way  they  danger  meet, 
For  since  the  death  of  my  dear  boy,  by  wild 
Beasts  torn,  sleep  flies  and  darkness  o'er  me  broods. 

Enter  Tik/aii  and  AvA. 

//>. — They're  coming !  They're  coming,  away  toward  the 
plains  of  Shinar. 


58  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

Av. — I  saw  Uncle  Judah's  big  white  mules,  and  all  the 
company  coming  down  the  valley,  and  I  could 
see  the  great  white  sacks  of  corn. 

Tir. — So  could  I,  and  all  the  boys  have  started  off  to 
meet  them  and  welcome  them  home. 

Enter  Era. 

Era. — Your  sons  have  all  arrived  in  safety.     I  think  I 
saw  the  whole  ten  as  they  descended  into  the 
valley. 
^a. — Blest  be  our  God  that  they  are  safe  returned. 

Have  they  abundant  corn  ? 
Era. — Their  mules  were  heavily  laden,  and  moved  slowly. 

Enter  Onana. 

On. — Our  Uncle  Simeon  has  not  come. 
ya. — What  has  befallen  my  sturdy  boy  ?     O,  what  }  . 
Go  Era,  haste,  and  bid  them  all  come  hither  soon. 

\Exit  Era.] 

Enter  Judah,  Benjamin,  and  the  returned  brethren. 

yu. — Dear  father,  the  man  who  is  the  lord  of  the  land 
spake  roughly  to  us,  supposing  us  spies  of  the 
country.  We  said  we  were  true  men,  the  sons 
of  one  man  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  the 
youngest  is  with  the  father.  And  the  man  said, 
hereby  shall  I  know  that  ye  are  true  men  and 
no  spies  ;  leave  one  of  your  brethren  here  with 
me,  take  food  for  your  households  and  begone, 
and  bring  your  youngest  brother  to  me,  and  ye 
shall  traffic  in  the  land. 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  59 

ya. — ''  Me  ye  have  bereaved  of  my  children.  Joseph  is 
not,  and  Simeon  is  not,  and  ye  will  take  Benja- 
min away  also;  but  my  son  shall  not  go  down, 
for  his  brother  is  dead  and  he  is  left  alone ;  if 
mischief  befall  him  on  the  way,  then  shall  ye 
bring  down  my  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave.     All  these  things  are  against  me." 

R. — My  father,  slay  my  two  sons  if  I  bring  him  not  to 
thee  !  Deliver  him  into  my  hands;  I  will  surely 
bring  him  back  to  thee. 

ya. —  Nay,  Reuben,  the  slaying  thy  two  sons  would  only 
add  grief  to  griet.  My  son  shall  not  go  down 
with  you. 

k — But,  my  father,  the  famine  is  sore,  and  we  must 
immediately  return,  lest  the  corn  in  Egypt  be 
exhausted  and  we  all  die  in  the  years  of  famine. 

y  a, — Well,  go  ye  all  again  to  Egypt  and  buy  us  more 
food. 

y u. — But,  my  father,  the  man  did  solemnly  protest  to 
us :  "  Ye  shall  not  see  my  face  except  your 
youngest  brother  be  with  you."  If  you  will 
send  Benjamin  with  us  then  will  we  go  down. 

y a. — Wherefore  did  you  tell  the  Governor  that  you  had 
a  younger  brother  ? 

y  u. —  The  man  asked  us  strictly  of  our  state  and  kindred : 
"  Is  your  father  alive  ?  Have  you  another 
brother  ?  "  We  answered  him  according  to 
the  tenor  of  these  words.  How  could  we 
know  that  he  would  say,  "  Bring  your  brother 
down  with  you."  Now,  my  father,  send  the 
lad  with  me  ;   I  will  be  surety  for  him ;  and  if  I 


6o  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

bring  him  not  unto  thee  let  me  bear  the  blame 
forever. 

Ben. — Yes,  my  father,  allow  me  to  go  with  my  brethren. 
I  am  already  pleased  with  this  Governor  of 
Egypt  and  wish  to  see  his  face.  I  believe  he 
is  a  good  and  a  holy  man.  No  harm  will  be- 
fall me  on  the  way  ;  I  shall  return  in  peace, 
with  the  blessing  both  of  Egypt's  Governor  and 
Abraham's  God  upon  my  head. 

ya. — Go,  then,  and  the  blessing  of  God  be  with  you. 
Take  with  you  presents,  and  the  money  which 
you  found  in  your  sacks — perhaps  it  was  an 
oversight — and  take  your  brother  and  go  again 
unto  the  man.  \Exeunt  Omnes.] 

Scene  4. — In  Egypt,  at  the  house  of  Joseph.     Enter 
Arvila  and  Senora. 

Arv. — Senora !  did  you  know  those  Hebrew  men 
To  Egypt  have  returned  ? 

Sen. — Yes,  last  eve  I  heard;  and  our  good  master  is 
Much  pleased.      There's   something  which  we    do 

not  read 
In  that  sealed  book.     How  deeply  moved  our  lord 
When  he  in  prayer  bespeaks  his  God  for  that 
Old  man,  and  his  young  son,  far,  far  away 
In  Canaan's  land. 

Arv. —  And  more, 

In  those  requests  how  oft  the  tears  roll  down 
His  cheeks.     O,  he  is  good ;  his  God 
Will  hear  his  prayers.     O,  how  I  wish 
All  our  friends  here  both  loved  and  worshipped 
Joseph's  God !     O,  that  all  Egypt,  too,  would  turn 


SCRIPTL'RAL    DKAMA.  6i 

From  reverence  to  the  crocodile  and  ox, 
To  bow  before  Jehovah  God. 
Sfn. — Sucli  worship,  Villa,  taints  the  soul  with  sin. 
But  see  !  behold  the  elevating  power 
Of  worship  true  on  this  whole  house !     We  now 
A  band  of  sisters,  brothers  are, 
"  Where  love  in  one  delightful  stream 
Through  every  action  flows, 
And  union  sweet  and  dear  esteem 
In  every  bosom  glows." 
His  earnest,  bold,  firm  faith  in  God ;  his  zeal 
For  love,  and  truth,  and  right,  this  change  has  wrought 
In  all  our  hearts.     Look  1  here  are  two 
Of  these  same  Hebrew  men.     We  will  retire. 

Enter  Is.s.'^char  ^/;^/ Zebulon. 

Z — I  have  been  walking  this  morning  upon  the  banks 
of  this  mighty  river.  What  convenience  here 
for  seaports  and  vessels  and  commerce!  It  is 
far  before  our  own  land. 

Is  — I  do  not  believe  we  can  make  money  so  fast  as  in 
our  own  land,  Zeb.  I  have  no  faith  in  your 
ships  and  traffic  ;  it  is  all  nonsense  ! 

Z. — Why,  Issachar,  you  seem  to  have  no  idea  of  what 
may  be  done  upon  the  great  waters.  How 
trade  may  be  extended,  nations  far  apart 
brought  near  each  other,  and  commerce  car- 
ried on  by  ships. 

li. — Well,  I'll  ride  and  you  may  sail,  Zeb,  but  I  should 
like  to  learn  if  there  are  any  gold  or  silver 
mines  in  this  country  ;  and,  if  so,  whether  they 
allow  strangers  to  dig  in  them. 


62  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

Z. — Why,  have  you  an  idea  of  staying  and  digging  ? 

Is. — Yes,  if  there  is  any  chance.  I  had  rather  go  home 
with  a  sack  full  of  silver  and  gold  than  corn — 
you  can  take  corn  enough  home. 

Z — Why,  Issachar,  your  whole  soul  is  set  on  wealth  !  I 
pity  you  that  you  are  so  foolish. 

Is. — Well,  foolish  or  not,  you  and  the  rest  are  glad  to 
come  to  me  to  borrow  when  you  get  short ;  but 
where  are  our  brethren  ?  This  is  the  place  we 
were  to  meet.  O,  here  they  come.  [Etiter 
the  other  brethren.^  Have  any  of  you  seen 
Simeon  ? 

J. — No;  but  we  saw  the  prison  in  which  he  was  con- 
fined. This  is  a  day  of  dreadful  import  to  us 
all. 

Ben. — I  have  no  fear.  The  Governor  will  treat  us 
kindly. 

A. — But  if  he  should  put  us  all  in  prison ! 

Ben. — He  will  not.  The  God  of  our  fathers  will  protect 
us,  and  take  us  safely  home. 

Enter  Herald, 

H. — The  Governor  of  Egypt  is  approaching ;  you  will 
observe  the  customs  of  our  country,  and,  with 
uncovered  heads,  bow  low  as  if  in  the  presence 
of  Pharaoh. 

Enter  Joseph  and  Retinue.     Brethren  bow  low. 

y^o. — Peace  be  unto  you ;  the  God  of  your  fathers  give 
you  success.  Is  your  father  still  alive  and  well  ? 
J^u. — Our  father  is  in  good  health  ;    he  is  yet  alive. 


SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA.  63 

'yo — Is  this  the  younger  brother  of  whom  ye  spake? 
(  The  brethren  all  bow  assent.)  God  be  gracious 
unto  thee,  my  son  ;  your  brother,  who  remained 
in  Egypt,  is  released.  My  steward  will  see 
that  you  all  are  well  attended,  and  on  the  mor- 
row you  will  all  dine  with  me.  After  that,  you 
will  return  with  corn  for  the  famine  of  your 
houses.  [Exeunt  0/nnes.] 

Scene  5. — In  Eg)'pt — Joseph  sitting  in  an  alcove  in  the 
Royal  Court — music  playing. 

Enter  Senora. 

Sen. — My  lord,  the  cup,  even  the  silver  cup  from  which 
you  are  wont  to  drink,  cannot  be  found  ! 

yo. — When  was  it  lost  ? 

Sen. — It  has  been  missing  since  the  banquet  of  that  fam- 
ily of  Hebrews  which  you,  my  lord,  was  pleased 
to  give  them  yesterday  in  your  own  house. 

yo. — [Speaking  to  officer  of  guard.^  Pursue  those  men 
and  bring  them  back. 

( Officer  and  guards  depart,  y  oseph  remains,  music 

again  resumed.) 

Officer  and  Guard  enter  and  the  1 1  brethren  arrested. 

Off. — The  men  are  arrested,  according  to  your  orders. 

yo. — {To  the  brethren)  What  deed  i.s  this  ye  have  done? 
Wot  ye  not  that  such  a  man  as  I  can  certainly 
divine  ? 

yu. — God  forbid  that  thy  servants  should  do  this  thing. 
With  whomsoever  the  cup  is  found  let  him  die, 
and  as  for  the  rest  of  us,  we  will  be  thy  bonds- 
men forever. 


64  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 

yo. — Let  it  be  according  to  thy  words.  {To  the  Stew- 
ard^ Search  the  sacks. 

H. — {All  is  silence  till  the  Herald  steps  forward  and  holds 
up  the  cup.')  The  cup  was  found  in  the  sack  ol 
Benjamin,  the  youngest. 

{The  brethren  all  fall  upon  their  knees.) 

yo. — Rise  up;  stand  upon  your  feet.  Your  own  sen- 
tence upon  yourselves  was,  "  Let  the  man  die 
in  whose  hands  the  cup  is  found,  and  the  rest 
shaU  be  bondsmen  forever."  Not  so  severe 
shall  be  my  sentence  upon  you.  The  man  in 
whose  hands  the  cup  is  found  shall  be  my 
servant,  and  as  for  the  rest  ot  you,  get  you  in 
peace  unto  your  father. 

yu. — O,  my  lord,  let  thy  servant,  I  pray,  speak  a  word 
in  my  lord's  ears,  and  let  not  thine  anger  burn 
against  thy  servant,  for  thou  art  even  as  Pharaoh. 
My  lord  asked  thy  servant,  saying,  "  Have  ye 
a  father  and  a  brother  ?  "  And  we  said  unto 
my  lord,  "  We  have  a  father,  an  old  man,  and 
a  child  of  his  old  age,  and  his  brother  is  dead ; 
and  he  alone  is  left  of  his  mother,  and  his  father 
loveth  him."  And  thou  said,  "  Brmg  him  down 
unto  me,  that  I  may  set  my  eyes  on  him."  And 
we  said  unto  my  lord,  "  The  lad  cannot  leave 
his  father,  for  if  he  should  leave  his  father,  his 
father  would  die."  And  thou  said  unto  thy 
servant,  "  Except  your  youngest  brother  come 
down  with  you,  you  shall  see  my  face  no  more." 
And  it  came  to  pass,  when  we  came  up  unto 
thy  servant,  my  father,  we  told  him  the  words 


SCRIPTURAL    DRAMA.  65 

of  my  lord,  and  our  father  said,  "  Go  again,  and 
buy  us  a  little  food."  And  we  said,  "  We  can- 
not go  down  ;  if  our  youngest  brother  be  with 
us,  then  will  we  go  down,  for  we  may  not  see 
the  man's  lace  except  our  youngest  brother  be 
with  us."  And  thy  servant,  my  father,  said 
unto  us,  "  You  know  that  my  wife  bare  me  two 
sons,  and  the  one  went  out  from  me,  and  I  said, 
surely  he  is  torn  in  pieces,  and  1  saw  him  not 
since,  and  if  ye  take  this  also  from  me,  and 
mishap  befall  him,  ye  shall  bring  down  my  grey 
hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave."  Now,  there- 
fore, when  I  come  to  thy  servant,  my  father, 
and  the  lad  be  not  with  us,  seeing  his  life  is 
bound  up  in  the  lad's  life,  it  shall  come  to  pass, 
when  he  seeth  the  lad  is  not  with  us,  he  will 
die,  and  thy  servants  shall  bring  down  the  grey 
hairs  of  thy  servant,  our  father,  with  sorrow  to 
tlie  grave  ;  for  thy  servant  became  surety  for 
the  lad  unto  my  father,  saying,  if  I  bring  him 
not  unto  thee,  then  shall  I  bear  the  blame  unto 
my  father  forever.  Now,  therefore,  I  pray  thee, 
let  thy  servant  instead  of  the  lad  become  a 
bondsman  unto  my  lord,  and  let  the  lad  go  up 
with  his  brethren.  For  how  shall  I  go  up  unto 
my  father  and  the  lad  be  not  with  me,  lest  per- 
adveiiture  I  see  the  evil  that  sliall  come  on  my 
father. 
yo. — Cause  every  man  to  go  out  from  me  {the  Egyptians 
all  go  out).  "  I  am  Joseph!  Does  my  father 
yet  live  ?  Come  near  to  inc,  I  pray  you  {and 
they  came  near).  And  lie  said,  1  am  Joseph, 
3 


66  SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA. 

your  brother,  whom  you  sold  into  Egypt,  Now, 
therefore,  be  not  grieved  nor  angry  with  your- 
selves that  ye  sold  me,  for  God  did  send  me 
before  you  to  preserve  your  life ;  for  there  are 
yet  five  years  of  famine  to  come,  in  which  there 
shall  be  neither  earing  nor  harvest.  Thus, 
brethren  {embracing  them  severally),  God  sent 
me  here,  to  save  your  lives,  by  a  great  deliver- 
ance, and  has  made  me  a  ruler  throughout  all 
this  land.  And,  behold,  your  eyes  see,  and  the 
eyes  of  my  brother  Benjamin  see,  that  it  is  my 
mouth  that  speaketh  unto  you.  And  now,  my 
brethren,  load  your  beasts  and  go  to  the  land 
of  Canaan,  and  you  shall  tell  my  father  of  ail 
my  glory  in  Egypt,  and  take  your  father,  and 
all  your  household,  your  wives  ^and  your  little 
ones,  and  come  unto  me  here  in  the  land  of 
Egypt,  and  ye  shall  eat  of  the  fat  of  the  land. 
Go,  and  return  in  peace.  \Exeunt  Omnes.\ 


^lli^ 


w- 


SCRIPTURAL  DRAMA.  67 


VALEDICTORY  TO  ILLUSTRATION  OF  JOSEPH. 


MARCH,       1867 


Dear  friends  and  parents,  'neath  whose  cheering  smile 

We've  toiled  to  please  and  keep  you  here  awhile, 

Our  task  is  o'er ;  and  unto  me  the  part 

Has  been  assigned  to  speak,  with  swelling  heart, 

To  you,  who  long  have  watched  and  wished  us  well, 

The  few  brief  words  ot  friendship  and  farewell. 

O,  gently  judge  us  for  all  deeds  amiss, 

Forget  our  faults,  and  but  remember  this  : 

That  all  our  acts,  however  ill  exprest, 

Were  well  intended,  and,  we  hope,  are  blest. 

This  meed,  indeed,  it  was  our  wish  to  gain, 

Your  kind  applause;  and  have  we  hoped  in  vain  ? 

Methinks,  while  gazing  on  each  smiling  face, 

The  hoped  for  verdict  I  can  plainly  trace. 

Another  thought  has  thrilled  us  while  we  trod 

This  scenic  ground — the  praise,  the  smile  of  God, 

His  powers,  His  glory,  ages  long  ago, 

His  servants,  false  and  faithful ;  and  the  slow 

But  certain  retribution,  surely  given, 

Which  follows  in  the  counsels  of  high  heaven. 

These,  with  your  smiles,  all  treasured  shall  be  kept  ; 

And  for  such  meed,  O  friends,  our  thanks  accept. 


68  SCRIPTURAL   DRAMA. 

These  thoughts  shall  cheer  us  on  some  future  day, 

When  o'er  the  past  our  memory's  feet  shall  stray, 

And  we,  recalling  from  its  treasures  dear. 

Will  bless  the  friends  who  saw  us  gather  here. 

We'll  strive  to  act  our  parts  in  life  as  true 

As  Jacob's  lovely  son.     We  hope  from  you 

A  bright  example  o'er  life's  track  may  shine, 

To  lead  us  onward  in  the  path  divine. 

May  gentle  flowers  bloom  lightly  where  we  tread. 

And  joy's  pure  halo  circle  o'er  each  head; 

Life's  thorns  be  hidden  in  the  desert  sand, 

And  not  one  footstep  tread  that  desert  land  ; 

But  all  glide  onward  till  life's  toils  are  past, 

All  meet  together  at  one  shrine  at  last, 

There,  midst  the  songs  from  million  hearts  that  swell, 

We'll  breathe  no  more  that  bitter  word,  "Farewell." 


Miseellapxeous  Poems. 


EARLY  AND  LATER  CLOUDS. 

I've  viewed  the  opening  scenes  of  life, 

When  hope's  fair  rising  sun 
Shone  brightly  over  childhood's  path, 

E'er  sorrow  had  begun  : 
I've  seen  glad,  youthful,  happy  feet 

Along  this  pathway  sped. 
Encircled  by  domestic  love. 

By  genial  spirits  led  ; 
I've  marked  the  gloom  which  sin's  dark  stain 

Shed  o'er  that  radiant  way, 
I've  heard  the  sigh,  the  sob,  the  moan 

As  virtue  fled  away  ! 
I've  seen  the  clouds,  still  darker  roll 

By  sin's  dark  withering  blight 
Until  the  sun,  which  rose  so  fair. 

Sunk  down  in  endless  night. 


YOU  ARE  ON  LIFE'S  WAY. 

Linger,  my  boy,  as  you  journey  along, 
And  mark  wiih  care  the  bustling  throng  ; 
Be  careful  to  cause  not  a  throb  of  pain. 
For  you  never  will  pass  this  way  again — 
You  are  on  Life's  way. 


70  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Hush,  my  boy,  those  words  of  scorn  ! 
See !  a  tear  is  moist'ning  that  cheek  forlorn  ; 
Speak  words  of  encouragement,  not  of  disdain, 
For  you  never  will  pass  this  way  again — 
You  are  on  Life's  way. 


Stop,  my  boy,  that  passionate  frown, 
'Tis  felt  by  your  mates,  at  school  or  in  town ; 
A  smile  of  love  will  the  truth  explain, 
For  you  will  never  pass  this  way  again — 
You  are  on  Life's  way. 


Hark,  my  boy !  Those  thunder  peals  ! 
Life's  dangers  and  struggles  your  track  reveals  ; 
Support  that  weak  one,  trembling  in  vain. 
For  you  never  will  pass  this  way  again — 
You  are  on  Life's  way. 


See  that  flash,  my  boy !  'Tis  life's  lightning  blast— 
The  lofty  and  lowly  are  bowed,  overcast ; 
Smile  with  them  in  joy,  weep  with  them  in  pain, 
For  you  never  will  pass  this  way  again — 
You  are  on  Life's  way. 


List,  my  boy,  to  that  angel  chime 
As  it  floats  o'er  the  clouds  in  yon  sun-lit  chme ; 
"  Never  or  now  "  is  the  sweet  refrain. 
For  you  never  will  pass  this  way  again — 
You  are  on  Life's  way. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  71 

THE  MISSISSIPPL 

Bold  River !   urge  thy  dark,  resistless  course, 

By  day,  by  night ;  flow  on,  'tis  well. 
Thy  might,  thy  strength,  thy  wild,  untiring  force, 

Support,  sustain,  administer;  dispel 
The  dangers,  e'en  the  very  perils  wild 

Which  threaten  thy  broad  vale. 
Thou  mightiest  mountain  child  ! 

Thy  footsteps  I  have  seen  upon  the  dark 

Tall  mountain's  brow,  frowning  upon 
The  Moon  ;  then,  mingling  with  the  meadow  lark. 

Thy  rippling  carol  swift,  then  soon 
I  heard,  I  felt,  a  trembling  rush — and  lo  ! 

Thy  waters  leaped  with  mighty  roar 
Into  the  vale  below. 


THE  CROSS,  THE  HOPE  OF  THE  SOUL. 

Lift  on  high  the  sign  of  a  Savior's  love, 

Let  its  arms  extend  on  high, 
And  gather  around  all  hearts,  resolved 

To  sustain  it  there  or  die — 
An  emblem  of  peace  and  hope  to  the  world  ; 

O,  haste  and  your  names  enroll. 
And  proclaim  to  a  world  immersed  in  sin, 

The  cross  is  the  hope  of  the  soul ! 

That  symbol  proclaims  to  the  list'ning  earth 

That  the  reign  of  the  tyrant  is  o'er, 
That  the  g  .lling  chains  of  the  monster  sin 

Shall  enslave  mankind  no  more. 
An  emblem  of  hope  to  the  poor  and  lost, 

O  raise  it  in  sight  of  the  whole  ! 
And  say  with  glad  voice  to  the  galh'ring  throng, 

The  cross  is  the  hope  of  the  soul ! 


72  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Then  on  high  let  the  cross  of  Jesus  stand — 

Its  saving  power  repeat, 
Till  every  sad  repentant  heart 

Shall  bow  at  Jesus'  feet. 
And  never,  O  never,  be  it  removed 

Until  seen  from  pole  to  pole, 
And  a  world  redeemed  shall  raise  the  shout 

"  The  cross  is  the  hope  of  the  soul !  " 

THE   CORNET. 
I  love  to  hear  the  gay  Cornet, 

Touched  by  a  skillful  hand, 
I  love  its  flowing  harmony 

When  mingling  in  the  band — 
Its  mellow  notes,  so  soft  and  clear ; 

Hark  !  hark  !  they're  sounding  now  ! 
How  they  echo  afar  on  the  evening  breeze, 

On  the  lofty  mountain's  brow  ! 

How  they  thrill  the  soul  as  the  azure  vault 

Its  echoes  still  prolong ; 
And  the  air  is  filled  with  the  varying  tones 

Commingling  with  the  song  ! 
It  sounds  again  ;  up,  up  on  high — 

It  seems  to  ascend  above. 
On  the  wings  of  Faith,  towards  the  bright  blue  sky, 

To  the  home  of  Music  and  Love. 

The  Lyre  and  the  Harp,  so  famed  of  old, 

By  the  bard  in  song  divine, 
Have  justly  received  their  meed  of  praise 

In  the  vales  of  Palestine; 
But  the  gay  Cornet,  how  its  music  floats 

O'er  the  hills  and  among  the  trees  ! 
Be  silent,  O  Earth  !  as  its  mellow  notes 

Die  away  on  the  evening  breeze. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  73 

MY  FIRST  PAIR  OF  BOOTS. 

Ah  !  who  shall  sing  the  praise  of  the  pair 

Which  secured  my  feet  from  the  frosty  air  ? 

Others  may  write  of  the  fancy-ribbed  skirt, 

Hood  may  sing  "  The  Song  of  the  Shirt," 

Be  it  mine,  as  fancy  in  sport  wreaths  shoots, 

To  sing  of  the  trials  and  pleasures  of  boots. 

Boots  !  aye  boots !   I  remember  the  time, 

When,  a  small  boy,  I  lived  in  a  cold,  frosty  clime  ; 

When  my  toes  red  and  chilled,  my  feet  wet  and  sad, 

When  but  six  years*  or  less,  I  crept  close  to  my  dad  ; 

He  hugs  his  wee  boy  as  the  fire  he  recruits. 

Saying,  "  Richard  must  have  a  pair  of  new  boots." 

Oh,  the  thrill  of  those  words  !  I  heard  them,  it  seems. 

That  whole  livelong  night,  or  awake,  or  in  dreams. 

Ah !  yes,  I  looked  round,  I  raised  up  my  head 

To  look  at  my  sire  from  my  low  trundle  bed ; 

And  there  in  the  moonlight,  with  shadows  cast  o'er. 

He  never  appeared  half  so  lovely  before. 

The  beams  of  the  morning  were  never  so  bright 

As  they  fell  o'er  the  hill-tops  succeeding  that  night ; 

The  frost  seemed  to  glitter,  the  landscape  to  cheer. 

The  buckwheats  were  sweeter,  the  coffee  more  clear. 

The  butter  more  golden — ay,  butter !  for  then 

Children  ate  butter  as  if  they  were  men. 

Strange  that  they  lived  'mid  such  killing  mistakes 

As  to  spread  golden  butter  on  steaming  hot  cakes  ; 

But  /  did,  I  assure  you — my  story  well  suits ; 

After  breakfast  we  started  away  for  the  boots. 

'Twas  a  mile  from  my  father's,  if  right  I  opine, 

'A  boy  of  six  in  IkkjIs  was  a  wonder  72  years  ago. 


74  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Our  old  shoemaker  flourished  his  wax  and  his  twine, 
And  O !  the  emotions  exukant  with  pride, 
As  I  set  my  right  foot  the  door  casement  beside  ; 
Yes,  I  manfully  rose  and  kicked  off  my  old  shoe, 
Some  afraid  that  old  Crispin  would  cut  my  big  toe  ; 
As  he  stuck  in  the  floor  his  long,  sharp-pomted  blade 
I  just  felt  the  touch  which  the  instrument  made. 
We  straight  left  the  cottage,  the  woodlands  among, 
Where  "  Old  Kit  "  sung  and  whistled,  and  whistled  and 

sung; 
But  my  heart,  it  was  saddened  beyond  all  disputes, 
Two  weeks  must  elapse  ere  I  go  for  my  boots. 

0  those  weeks !  have  you  ever  in  agony  dreamed  ? 
A  little  eternity  surely  it  seemed  ; 

But  I  lived  the  whole  fourteen — 'twas  my  happy  lot 
And  that  day,  ten  o'clock,  found  me  there  on  the  spot. 
My  boots,  sir  ?  Your  boots  !  Aye, "  Old  Crispin  "  replied, 
"  They  are  now  on  the  clamps,  they  soon  will  be  dried.' 
Be  dried  ?  arn't  they  done,  sir  ?  They  are  not,  I  fear. 

1  tried  to  be  brave,  but  out  came  a  tear. 
So  home  I  returned,  in  anger  and  sorrow. 
Assured  of  my  boots  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
I  waited — felt  manly — was  firm  as  a  rock — 

I  had  better  not  start,  till  about  2  o'clock 
My  mother  suggested ;  I  pondered  it  o'er — 
*T would  look  rather  boyish  to  start  off  before. 
As  near  to  the  house  of  "  Old  Crispin  "  I  drew 
My  steps  faltered  slightly,  my  heart  fluttered,  too  ; 
Sometimes  I  walked  slow,  then  attempted  to  run — 
O,  what  if  my  boots,  my  new  boots,  were  not  done  ! 
I  soon  stood  before  him  !  "  Your  boots,"  he  replied, 
*'■  Are  still  on  the  clamps."  "  I've  a  stitch  in  my  side;" 


MISCELLANLOUS  POEMS.  75 

Then  he  smiled  very  silly,  a  tune  tried  to  hum  ; 

His  side-stitches  all  came  from  cider  and  rum. 

I  turned  on  my  heel,  I  went  out  at  the  door, 

I  sat  down  on  a  log  and  indulged  in  a  roar; 

Soon  I  dried  up  in  anger — arose  from  the  log — 

I  muttered  out,  '•  liar  !  " — "  a  drunken  old  dog  !  " 

"  I'll  haunt  you  " — "  no  quiet  shall  visit  you  more," 

And  two  weeks  almost  daily  I  stood  at  his  door. 

Some  strange  disappointments  our  lives  intersect; 

Some  unlooked-for  events  make  the  thoughtless  reflect, 

As  out  of  the  order  of  cause  and  effect. 

One  eve  as  I  called  to  repeat  the  same  quest, 

"  Boots  done  ?"    No  !    the  answer  was  curtly  expressed  ; 

So  with  no  disappointment,  or  any  delay. 

And  cheerful  in  sadness,  I  turned  me  away. 

Next  morn  as  at  breakfast  we  gathered  with  care. 

The  latchet  was  lifted,  "  Old  Crispin  "  stood  there 

Large  as  life — he  stood  still,  looked  me  full  in  the  eye 

As  he  held  up  the  boots  ;   I  gave  a  faint  cry — 

Not  a  cry  of  despair,  nor  of  anger  a  gleam, 

But  of  sweet  disappointment,  a  happified  scream. 

I  sprang  from  the  table,  forgetting  all  care, 

Upset  my  hot  coffee,  turned  over  my  chair ; 

The  family  smiled  in  the  midst  of  the  breeze, 

And  soon  I  was  cased  up  in  boots  to  my  knees. 

I  walked  in  the  house,  1  walked  out  in  the  street. 

And  with  man-measured  dignity  looked  towards  my  feet ; 

Ah  !  boys  will  be  foolish,  deny  it  who  can. 

For  it  seemed  I  was  suddenly  changed  to  a  man — 

In  my  own  estimation — but  hark!  a  recall, 

My  mother's  sweet  voice  sounded  out  from  the  hall, 

"  Come,  finish   your  breakfast !  "    My  breakfast,  indeed  ! 


76  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

I  jumped,  kicked  up  high,  and  ran  ofif  at  full  speed. 

Ah !  who  can  imagine  the  joy  of  that  morn. 

When  from  hope  my  enjoyment  was  suddenly  born, 

The  sweet  magic  of  "  Boots,"  my  full  boyhood's  desire, 

Which  protected  my  feet  from  the  mud  and  the  mire ; 

In  joyful  abstraction,  I  wandered  alone 

For  the  space  of  three  hours,  then  came  back  to  my  home. 

Alone !  yes,  indeed ;  there  is  sometimes  a  joy 

When  society  only  affords  an  alloy  : 

Alone  !  yes — why  not  ?  for  true  wisdom  may  ask, 

"  Is  virtue,  true  virtue,  society's  task  ? 

Or  not  rather  the  glen  and  the  mountain-top's  child 

Where  nature  in  silence  has  wrestled  and  smiled  ? 

There  the  great  and  the  good  often-tiraes  have   been 

trained 
And   there   have   the    Moore's   and    the    Wordsworth's 

mam  tain  ed 
A  converse  with  nature,  a  conquest  o'er  life, 
Which  has  aided  the  world  in  humanity's  strife." 
But  stop !  I  have  almost  forgotten  my  theme 
In  the  earnest  excuse  of  my  wandering  dream. 
But  now  I  must  mingle  in  life  as  I  can. 
What  will  other  folks  think  me,  a  boy  or  a  man  ? 
My  schoolmates  all  wrestle,  play,  study  in  shoes ; 
Shall  I  mingle  with  them,  or  shall  I  refuse  ? 
Poh  !  what  nonsense  my  visions  decoy  ! 
'Tis  plain,  I  am  Richard,  the  same  little  boy : 
Then  Richard  I'll  live,  by  the  same  honest  rule, 
Determined  my  boots  shall  not  make  me  a  fool ! 
Thus  musing,  came  back  to  the  home  of  my  joy, 
A  wiser,  more  dignified,  manlier  boy. 
I  have  since  often  pondered  in  all  my  pursuits 


MISCELLANICOUS  POEMS.  77 

My  sore  disappointment  in  getting  my  boots. 

I  believe,  and  with  reason,  that  month  of  suspense 

Was  a  lesson  of  wisdom,  of  manhood's  defense. 

Thus  I   learned  in  my  childhood,  as  bootless  for  strife, 

Vain  hopes  often  please  in  the  foreground  of  life, 

While  time's  flying  moments  in  memory's  fond  haste 

Tread  trackless  the  sands  of  life's  earliest  waste, 

Yet  they  deeply  engrave  with  the  chisel  of  Fate 

Whatever  they  stamp,  with  its  love  or  its  hate. 

The  drunkard  I  pity — nay,  almost  despise, 

Tnose  side-stitches,  hiccoughs  and  shoe-maker's  lies, 

And  to  this  very  moment  my  spirit  is  stirred 

By  the  men  or  the  women  who  forfeit  their  word. 

And  a  voice  oft  addressed  me,  as  through   the  lone  wild 

I  followed  that  foot-path — "  Be  patient,  my  child !  " 

"  Life's  scenes  are  before  you — each  earthly  career 

Will  be  mingled  with  sorrow,  be  saddened  with  fear, 

And  as  higher  you  climb  in  the  sunlight  of  day 

Use  wisely  the  light  that  may  fall  on  your  way." 

And  erst  in  my  boyhood,  by  thought  over-cast 

As  I  looked  at  my  feet  and  remembered  the  past, 

I  had  learned  a  great  truth,  deny  it  who  can, 

Though  a  man  can  make  bootSy  never  boots  made  a  tnan. 


SUCKER  BOY. 


1  wish  this  evening,  e'er  I  go. 
Five  minutes  to  employ 

In  hearing  how  you  will  advise 
.\  lillle  Sucker  Boy. 


^S  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

You  see  I'm  young,  so  once  were  you  ; 

0  !  help  me  if  you  can  : 

My  soul  aspires  to  right,  to  truth — 

1  want  to  be  a  man. 

Not  big — that  isn't  what  I  mean — 

Nor  yet  possessed  of  riches  ; 
Men  are  not  made,  my  mother  says, 

By  wearing  coats  and  breeches. 

I  stood  across  the  street,  forsooth, 

Near  a  fine  whisky  den  ; 
Some  twelve  big  six  foot  chaps  came  out — 

Tell  me,  were  these  all  men  ? 

Some  cursed,  some  smoked,  I  guess  some  chewed, 

Their  jaws  went  fast  and  clever ; 
Shall  I  become  a  man  like  them  ? 

O  never,  never,  never  ! 

•  I'd  rather  be  a  little  boy 

My  whole,  whole  life-time  through 
Than  drink  and  smoke,  and  swear  like  them — 
Say,  friends  !  say,  should  not  you  ? 

I  said  I  wished  to  be  a  man. 

Free,  free,  from  folly's  blight, 
From  drink — from  lies — from  v/rong — from  sin — 

Say,  are  my  notions  right  ? 


DEDICATION  HYMN. 

Jehovah  spake — a  temple  stood — 
The  monumental  power  of  God  ! 
Its  arch  in  Astral  beauty  bright. 
And  curtained  by  the  morning  light. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  79 

Its  pillars  reared — the  mountains  stand — 
The  sea  outspread — the  solid  land — 
The  plain — the  forest  at  his  word, 
Bedeck  this  temple  of  the  Lord. 

Nature  awoke  in  vocal  praise  ; 
Earth,  seas  and  skies,  their  paeans  raise  : 
Glory  to  God,  on  Earth  good  will ! 
Echo  along  from  hill  to  hill. 

Lord,  we  would  join  this  general  theme. 
Here  meet  thy  saints — their  souls  redeem. 
Here  bid  the  dying  sinner  live  ; 
For  Jesus'  sake  his  sins  forgive. 

Here,  Heavenly  King,  record  thy  name  ! 
Thy  mercies  show — thy  love  proclaim  : 
Accept  this  off 'ring — let  it  be 
Thy  dwelling  place,  from  error  free. 

And  when  we  fall  in  silent  death, 
And  yield  to  thee  our  vital  breath. 
Still  may  our  children  here  proclaim 
The  glories  of  our  Savior's  name. 


MY  CAT. 
(Written  wlien  llic  author  was  eleven  years  old.) 

I  have  a  cat,  I'll  warrant  that, 
She  IS  both  black  and  white  ; 

And  puss  is  good  to  search  the  wood 
At  mid-tlay  or  at  night. 


8o 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


Silent  and  still,  as  glides  the  rill 

In  shadowy  moonlight  ray, 
The  Rabbit  wild,  as  a  playful  child, 

Becomes  her  easy  prey. 

And  yet  to  me  she  seems  to  be 

So  gentle,  full  of  love  ; 
How  can  that  look,  that  purr,  that  mew, 

So  bloody,  cruel  prove  ? 


A  PUZZLE. 

The  first  and  last  words  of  each  line  of  this  little  Poem,  mingled 
together  alphabetically  as  italicised,  were  sent  to  the  author  of  this 
work,  asking  him  to  put  them  in  descriptive  poetry  upon  any  subject 
to  which  they  could  be  applied.  He  complied  with  the  request. 
Original  between  the  black  perpendicular  lines. 

And,  bogs,  deceive,  flood,  find,  in,  or,  snake,  thou,  thou,  with, 
with,  and,  crushed,  eve,  field,  for,  in,  paradise,  skin,  that,  take, 
when,  woods,  and,  dust,  eyes,  frogs,  hast,  mankind,  since,  sin,  to, 
when,  why,  yield. 


Thou 

That 

When 

Or 

And 

When 

In 

To 

With 

And 

Thou 

In 

For 

And 

Why 

With 

Since 

Hast 


hated  form,  yclept  a 
form  thou  wast  compelled  to 
ranging  o'er  the  watery 
in  the  groves,  or  in  the 
winding  through  the  verdant 
first  the  clouds  their  moisture 
quest  of  food  among  the 
feed  upon  the  slimy 
serpent  eye  and  mottled 
thought  intend  on  mortal 
cans't  not  now,  as  once 
Eden's  bower  our  mother 
all  her  girls  have  clearer 
mourn  the  joys  of 
reptile,  hiss  !  their  hopes  you 
demon's  foot  into  the 
then,  O   Serpent !  thou  we 
been  the  dread  ot  all 


snake, 

take, 

floods, 

woods, 

field, 

yield, 

bogs, 

frogs ; 

skin, 

sin; 

deceive, 

Eve, 

eyes. 

Paradise. 

crushed 

dust. 

find 

mankind. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  81 

THE    HOME     OF    A    WEEK. 

My  thoughts  take  their  flight  to  my  home  far  away 
As  the  time  fast  approaches  in  which  I  shall  say : 
"  Farewell,  my  dear  friends,"  a  word  painful  to  speak, 
As  I  take  a  farewell  of  "  the  home  of  a  week." 

I  here  have  been  blest  with  society  kind. 
Of  free  interchange  of  mind  mingling  with  mind  ; 
The  wisdom  of  age  with  youth,  gentle  and  meek, 
As  my  time  passed  away  in  the  home  of  a  week. 

Nor  less  has  the  prime  and  the  vigor  of  mind, 
Inspired  by  devotion  confiding  and  kind. 
Served  to  lessen  my  cares,  nor  compelled  me  to  seek 
Social  converse  away  from  the  home  of  a  week. 

Farewell  !  dearest  friends,  I  arise  to  depart, 
With  your  smiles  of  affection  enstamped  on  my  heart. 
I  muse,  while  the  tear  drop  still  moistens  the  cheek. 
Shall  I  not  be  forgot  in  the  home  of  a  week  ? 


ACROSTIC  TO  CALISTA  WEBSTER. 

Chance  drops  a  flowret  here  and  there 

Along  the  path  of  youth, 
Lifts  high  the  clouds  of  radiant  hope 

Illumed  with  tints  of  truth. 
Soon  the  flowret's  bloom  is  sere, 

Trace  of  cloud  no  more  is  seen. 
All  is  desolate  and  drear. 

Well,  let  these  transient  joys  depart, 
Entomb'd  within  the  world's  dark  heart, 

Ik'neath  oblivion's  shade. 
6 


82  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Still  brighter  flowers  shall  bloom  along 
The  path  of  truth  which  Jesus  trod, 

Encircling  virtue's  throng,  till  they 
Return  by  faith  to  God. 


FAREWELL  TO  NELLIE. 

Farewell,  dear  Nellie,  I  shall  seem 
To  hear  your  voice  in  fancy's  dream  ; 
Shall  miss  at  your  home  those  sunny  smiles. 
When  converse  sweet  the  hours  beguiles  ; 
And  the  pouting  lip  (I  so  much  approve), 
Half  in  anger  and  half  in  love — 
Yes,  these  will  soon  all  flit  away, 
But  remembrance  of  Nellie,  will  ever  stay  ! 
Go  !  then,  dear  friend,  'hrough  all  your  life 
Prove  a  kind,  a  gentle,  a  loving  wife ; 
Above  all  things  else,  to  Jesus  cleave. 
Who  has  said  to  all  "repent,  believe." 
Once  more  farewell,  and  when  you  muse 
On  the  past,  as  you  these  lines  peruse ; 
Among  your  friends  whom  you  love  and  bless, 
Number  the  writer,  R.  C.  S. 


TRUE    NOBILITY. 

(Written  in  an  Album.) 

If  love  and  truth,  grand  pillars  of  the  soul. 
Through  life's  extent  your  inmost  thoughts  control. 
Then  happiness,  which  all  from  duty  springs, 
As  soars  the  bird  aloft  on  airy  wings, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  83 

Nor  stops  its  flight  where  space  the  ether  bounds, 

But  moves  right  onward,  through  the  depths  profound. 

Shall  be  the  guerdon  which  shall  bless  your  life 

And  guard  your  spirit  in  a  world  of  strife. 

What  matter  though  no  "  coats  of  arms  "  adorn, 

Which  mark  the  escutcheon  of  the  noble  born  ? 

The  stamped  noblesse  of  Heaven,  more  nobly  thrive 

In  humble  hearts,  to  love  and  truth  alive. 

Without  these  principles  in  virtue's  train 

Life  sinks  in  vanity — you  live  in  vain  ; 

All  other  hopes  deceive — a  worthless  trace, 

Like  "wind-raised  dust  which  whistles  in  your  face." 

Live  then  by  holy  principle — above 

All  low-born  joys,  sustained  by  Truth  and  Love. 


HYMN  SUNG  AT  A  PICNIC. 

A  friendly  group  have  gathered  round 

Within  this  shady  bower, 
To  raise  the  shout  of  gladness  here 

To  consecrate  this  hour  ; 

To  join  in  sports  of  innocence 

Their  cheerful  voices  raise  ; 
To  offer  in  this  House  of  God 

Their  Sacrifice  of  Praise. 

This  House  of  God  !   How  vast !   How  high! 

Its  dome  the  bending  Heaven  ; 
Its  curtains  waving  o'er  our  heads 

Stirred  by  the  breath  of  Even. 


84  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Look  up!  this  is  your  Father's  House, 
These  beauties  prove  his  love ; 

Whose  sign  of  Truth  is  in  the  heart 
And  his  reward  above. 


POEM  WRITTEN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF 
OSTRANDO  PHILLIPS. 

(When  the  author  was  fourteen  years  old.) 

Alas !  a  solemn  sound  around  has  sped, 

Ostrando's  gone  and  numbered  with  the  dead. 

A  few  days  since  was  in  full  health  and  bloom. 

But  now,  alas  !  sent  headlong  to  the  tomb. 

Some  time  ago  a  lot  he  bought,  we  hear, 

And  soon  a  dwelling  house  began  to  rear; 

To  work  he  went,  the  sturdy  teams  to  guide, 

For  life's  arising  wants  then  to  provide. 

How  oft  the  rising  sun  in  beauty  shines 

On  youth's  bright  hopes!  But  e'er  the  day  declines 

Winds  blow — clouds  rush — the  thunder  rolls, 

And  sadness,  darkness,  death,  the  day  controls  ! 

So  closed  the  darkness  in — forever  closed 

On  those  bright  hopes.     The  day's  decline  disclosed 

Life  by  the  falling  timbers  gone.     The  breath. 

The  soul  passed  to  the  spirit-world  in  death. 

You  weep,  dear  friends ;  but  listen  while  you  sigh 

For  that  kind  voice  which  says,  "  You  shall  not  die  " 

"  If  you  believe  in  me."     Look  up!  receive 

The  blessings  given  to  all  who  will  believe. 

In  Faith  behold  the  resurrection  day. 

When  bone  shall  fly  to  bone,  and  clay  to  clay,* 

*This  idea  was  common  in  those  days.      I  have  since  heard, 
"  there  is  a  natural  body,  and  there  is  a  spiritual  body." 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  85 

And  murmur  not  at  judgments  sent  from  God. 
Behold,  a  Father's  hand  still  guides  the  rod. 
Brothers  and  sisters,  kindred,  one  and  all. 
For  him  your  tears  in  sorrow  deep  did  fall  ; 
His  death,  indeed,  was  shocking  and  severe — 
A  warning  take,  the  great  Jehovah  fear. 
Let  every  person,  young  and  old,  who  hears 
This  youth's  unhappy  fate,  just  drop  a  tear. 
The  ways  of  God  are  intricate  and  strange, 
Then  be  prepared  to  meet  your  final  change. 


ORIGINAL  SONG. 

Sung  by  .Mary  Stark,  a  child  of  tliree  years,  at  the  Concert  of  the 
Piscataquog  Sabbath  School,  in  Manchester,  N.  H.,  1855. 

Good  evening,  friends,  you  see  I'm  young, 

Just  started  on  life's  journey — 
A  little  one  of  three  years  old — 

So  pardon  every  turn  I 
Shall  make,  from  song  both  sweet  and  true 

Within  my  bosom  swelling. 
And  bear  my  infant  off'ring  home 

To  every  humble  dwelling. 

My  mother  says,  the  Savior  dear, 

With  heavenly  love  caressing. 
Such  little  ones  as  I  took  up 

And  gave  to  them  his  blessing  ; 
And  I  do  pray-  with  infant  lips, 

When  earthly  ties  are  riven. 
An  Angel  bright,  I  may  go  up 

To  Jesus  and  to  Heaven. 


MISSION-BRIDE 

AN  EPIC  POEM. 


PART    I  . 

"Nature  hath  assigned 
Two  sovereign  remedies  for  human  grief — 
Religion,  surest,  firmest,  first  and  best, 
Strength  to  the  weak,  and  to  the  wounded  balm  ; 
And  strenuous  action  next." — Southey. 

New  England!  Housatonic!  Your  green  hills, 
Your  clover-vales  and  pond-supported  rills, 
Your  solemn  church-yards  and  your  noble  shades, 
And  spires  that  rise  from  fertile  flowery  glades, 
Your  vine-wreathed  homes  and  monuments  ot  mind, 
How  sacred  are  the  memories  round  them  twined ! 
Thy  name  was  given  thee  by  a  race  that  now 
On  western  prairies  wield  the  scythe  and  plow, 
Where  wild  Missouri's  dusky  flood  maintains 
A  wavering  course  through  bluffs  and  fertile  plains, 
Their  dark  forefathers  on  thy  borders  stood 
And  once  baptized  thee  in  thine  own  clear  flood  ! 
Decrees  of  Providence,  not  wands  of  Fate, 
Have  scattered  these  to  make  the  land  more  great  ; 
And  now  the  wise,  the  cultured,  ay,  the  free, 
New  England  !  live  and  love,  and  grow,  in  thee  ! 


MISSION   BRIDE.  87 

Upon  the  Mississippi's  heaving  tide, 

Where  bold  De  Soto  stood  in  wondering  pride, 

My  eyes  intentive  bend  their  pensive  gaze, 

Where  at  my  feet,  now  bathed  in  sunset  rays, 

A  low  neglected  mound  with  tablet  rude 

Gives  whisper  sad  amid  the  solitude. 

Therein  I  read  the  story  of  a  life 

Whose  very  episodes  were  strangely  rife 

With  sorrow,  love,  and  holy  joy  combined 

Displayed  within  a  consecrated  mind. 

A  bright  May  morning  many  years  ago, 

Near  Housatonic's  mild  meandering  flow, 

Within  a  quiet  vale  by  mountains  crowned — 

An  emerald  gem  by  graceful  distance  bound  ; 

Where  violets  bloomed  among  the  meadow  grass, 

And  cow-slips  scarce  would  let  the  sunbeams  pass  ; 

Where  flowed  a  brook's  perpetual  laughing  tide, 

And  gemmed  with  spray  the  daisies  by  its  side  ; 

Within  an  humble  home,  a  cottage  rude. 

With  sanded  oaken  floors,  of  carpets  nude. 

An  infant  girl  on  youthful  parents  smiled — 

An  early  hope,  a  consecrated  child — 

Another  self  to  guide  in  virtue's  ways, 

A  soul  to  tune  for  Heaven's  immortal  lays ! 

Like  streams  unprisoned  moving  swift  and  strong, 

Anticipations  came  with  hope  and  song 

Of  joys  that  swell  the  future's  smiling  train, 

Commissioned  with  a  balm  for  every  pain. 

"  Irene,"  a  "  winsome  bairn,"  her  father's  knee 

Began  to  climb  and  laugh  in  bird-like  glee  ; 

Affection  purer,  sweeter,  never  clung 

To  stronger  hearts,  like  viney  tendrils  hung 


88  EPIC  POEM. 

In  wild-wood  bowers;  her  tearful  eyes  of  blue, 

Mimosa  like,  from  look  severe  withdrew  ; 

Her  presence  gave  a  gentle  joy,  akin 

To  such  as  spirits  feel  unknown  to  sin ; 

But  Earth  ne'er  offers  bliss  so  full;  .the  draught 

May  not  in  dreams  illusive  still  be  quaffed ! 

Irene  grew  up— an  only,  hopeful  child. 

And  each  new  year  with  richer  promise  smiled. 

No  brother  roved  with  her  in  sprightly  mien, 

Through  wild-wood  shades  and  sunny-pastures  green  ; 

No  sister  wove  of  blossoms  white  and  rare 

A  crown  to  bind  her  flowing  auburn  hair; 

Yet  she  was  happy,  artless,  pure  and  free — 

A  bud!  a  singing  bird  !  a  wandering  bee  ! 

She  knew  the  homes  of  all  the  vernal  flowers, 

And  sought  them  early  in  the  freshening  hours 

That  followed  Winter's  chilling  vanquished  reign, 

Before  the  grasses  clothed  the  Earth  again. 

When  May  advanced  with  royal  robes  and  sheen, 
And  Earth  re-smiled  in  garniture  of  green, 
The  wild-rose  on  the  hill  its  blossoms  gave. 
And  hawthorn,  white  as  foams  the  ocean  wave, 
Irene  arranged  in  wreaths,  while  fancies  sweet 
Assumed  the  hue  of  petals  at  her  feet. 
Many  a  lovely  garland  thus  she  wove 
For  her  whom  Nature  taught  a  daughter's  love  ; 
Of  leaves — her  childhood's  laurels — too  she  twined 
Fair  wreaths,  around  her  father's  hat  to  bind. 

She  was  a  friend  to  every  breathing  thing  ; 
The  tiniest  life,  the  bird  of  song  and  wing, 


MISSION   BRIDE.  89 

And  humming  insects;  e'en  the  reptile's  form 
The  maiden's  conscious  heart  would  never  harm  ; 
And  in  the  pastures,  all  the  herd  would  raise 
Their  heads,  and  bow  in  signal  of  their  praise. 
'Twas  thus  she  grew  and  lived,  a  thoughtful  girl. 
With  step  of  grace,  and  lip  of  noble  curl, 
And  gentle,  dreaming  eye — 

An  ideal  sense 
Of  something  faultless — Eden's  fair  defense  ; 
A  creature  made  for  love,  for  grief,  for  sin. 
Is  womanhood  so  frail,  and  yet  within, 
A  tenderness  complete  with  strength  ? 

The  wake 
Of  passing  storms,  and  thunder  surges  break 
And  shatter  oaks  grim  centuries  have  bred, 
And  leave  them  vanquished,  proud  old  monarchs  dead  ! 
So  man's  high  soul  may  fall,  denied  the  power 
Existing  in  a  gentle,  bending  flower ! 

The  Flower  of  green  Glendale,  the  fair  Irene, 
Was  now  in  perfect  bloom— of  blooms  the  Queen  ! 
Who  does  not  know  how  girlhood  weaves  its  dreams, 
How  pure  the  future's  pictured  pleasure  seems  ! 
Her  active  mind  becoming  more  mature. 
Love's  sweet  mysterious  desires  allure  ; 
To  her  young  life  they're  like  a  cymar  vail. 
Beneath  which  shadowing  doubts  and  fears  prevail. 
When  sunset  told  the  recreative  hour, 
And  richer  odors  left  the  leaf  and  flower. 
More  oft  she  sought  her  favorite  seat  and  bower  ; 
Her  mother's  watchful  heart  began  to  miss 
Her  long  companionship  and  frecjuent  kiss, 


90  EPIC  POEM. 

When  day  was  gone,  'ere  gentle  sleep  consigned 
To  rest  her  wearied  torm  and  grateful  mind  ; 
The  cadences  of  childhood  sank  away, 
But  followed  youth's  more  ardent,  pensive  lay, 
And  reaching  on  its  highest  number  sought 
More  melody  in  elevated  thought. 

Of  other  days — of  years  and  seasons  flown, 
The  mother  often  spake  in  trembling  tone  ; 
As  hoped-for  letters  from  old  Scotland's  shore. 
Long  intervals  between  were  pondered  o'er, 
And  warm  and  fast  her  mother's  tear-drops  fell. 
The  child  would  sigh,  for  what  she  could  not  tell ; 
But  now  she  made  her  listening  daughter  know 
Their  unblest  fated  love,  and  youthful  woe. 

Young  Agnes  Ramsey,  daughter  of  the  swain. 
Was  loved  by  Robert,  heir  of  proud  Glenwayn  ; 
Her  fair  sweet  brow  and  curling  lip  of  rose. 
And  gentle  heart,  the  only  dower  he  chose ; 
He  knew  full  well  his  father's  scornful  ire 
He  long  must  brook  for  such  perverse  desire  ; 
But  with  the  strong  resolve  of  love  and  truth. 
The  pure  tenacity  ol  glowing  youth. 
He  chose  with  her  to  live  in  foreign  lands 
Doubly  united  by  connubial  bands  ; 
Content  and  portionless  with  her  to  live. 
To  learn  the  sweet  contentment  toil  can  give. 

One  brother's  heart  for  Robert  ever  yearned, 
His  letters  with  fraternal  fervor  burned. 
Witness,  ye  faithless,  love's  enduring  ties, 
A  bond  of  strength  which  lapse  of  years  defies! 


MISSION  BRIDE.  91 

Why  kindles  fair  Irene's  expectant  een 

To  brighter  flash  each  silken  fringe  between, 

While  laughter  curls  her  pretty  lip  with  joy 

By  tidings  of  a  distant  cousin-boy, 

Ere  yet  the  speeding  careless  years  have  flown, 

And  woman's  grace  appears  for  childhood  gone  ? 

As  ripples  rise  upon  the  silent  sea, 

When  moving  airs  embrace  it  from  the  lea, 

Did  wavelets  of  her  gentle  being  move 

To  rising  hopes,  to  pure  unconscious  love  ; 

While  dimples  played  upon  her  flushing  cheek, 

And  glad  relief  unbashful  words  would  seek. 

Young  "  cousin  Oscar  '"  in  the  pictured  halls, 

Or  'round  the  quaint  and  ancient  ivied  walls, 

On  smooth  green  lawns,  through  noble  parks  and  bloom, 

Conservatories  screened,  his  lordly  home, 

Wou!d  dance,  and  play,  and  pipe,  and  joyful  sing, 

Careless  as  bee  or  bird  upon  the  wmg, 

To  chase  a  newly-pinioned  butterfly  ; 

Or  gather  blue-bells,  blue  as  summer  sky, 

Afar  across  the  dim  or  purple  moor. 

He  sported  ;  or  to  cheer  the  honest  poor 

He  paused  to  smile  before  each  humble  door. 

And  this  was  Oscar's  childhood ;  now  behold 

The  man  mature,  with  generous  impulse  bold. 

The  transcript  form  of  Health  !   His  beaming  face 

Of  Grecian  mould,  devoid  of  darkening  trace. 

Of  low  desire,  of  unblest  life,  content 

With  virtue's  sterling  promise,  early  lent. 

He  too,  from  childhood's  light-increasing  dawn. 

Knew  of  a  lovely  cousin  foreign  born; 


^2  EPIC  POEM. 

And  later  of  her  ripening  beauty  heard, 
Her  father's  letters  strange  his  bosom  stirred ! 

Like  spider's  silken  net  with  victim  caught, 

Is  love  that  risks  so  much,  yet  fears  for  nought ; 

Wild  tenant  of  the  open  breast  of  youth, 

Whose  bright  conceptive  fancy  plays  with  truth ! 

Our  hero  longs  to  see  that  cousin's  face ; 

It  has  to  him  the  sweet  imagined  grace, 

Retirement  and  a  simple  life  ensures, 

Released  from  chains  society  endures. 

He  longs  to  see  Columbia's  rising  shore. 

Whose  story  time  repeats  so  proudly  o'er  ! 

The  empire  child  of  England's  regime  old, 

Whose  fugitives  for  freedom  grew  so  bold. 

His  father's  parting  benediction  said. 

His  mother's  kiss  received  with  lingering  dread 

Of  visioned  evil,  and  the  younger  band 

Of  wistful  sisters  clinging  to  his  hand, 

Until  he  bends  each  darling  to  embrace. 

While  roll  the  tear-drops  down  his  gentle  face, 

With  half  repenting  thought,  he  breaks  away     • 

As  evening  shades  close  in  the  vernal  day. 

At  length  on  England's  stormy  western  strand 

A  bark  lies  moored,  and  bound  for  foreign  land, 

Unfurling,  as  she  rolls  upon  the  sea. 

Banners  prophetic — floating  for  the  free  ! 

In  this  our  Oscar  stands  in  haste  to  brave, 

In  hope,  the  dangers  of  Atlantic's  wave. 

While  breaks  the  spray  around  the  dashing  prow, 

Behold  him  silent  o'er  the  gunwale  bow ; 

Do  dreams  of  future  glory  fill  his  brain  ? 

Does  thought  admonish  love's  approaching  pain  ? 


MISSION    RRIDE.  95 

Or  mourns  he  still  the  solemn  parting  hour, 

In  consciousness  of  love's  parental  dower  ? 

Now  leave  him  to  his  reveries,  while  the  ship 

Is  bounding  forward  with  majestic  dip  ; 

Soon  breezy  days  and  nights  of  moon-light  bloom 

Shall  waft  him  far  from  Scotland,  friends  and  home. 

Oscar's  young  breast  with  high  emotion  swells, 

As  chart  and  quadrant  to  the  voyager  tells 

The  near  approach  to  that  ambitious  port 

Whose  starry  tlags  with  heaven's  high  breezes  sport. 

"  Columbia  true  !  I  own  thy  righteous  pride, 

Thy  noble  right  to  emigration's  tide ! 

Thou  green-earth  bosom — nurse  for  honest  toil. 

The  people's  sovereignty  !  the  tyrant's  foil ! 

But  Scotia  !  thou,  by  bards  immortal  made  ; 

Thy  streams,  thy  glens,  thy  crags,  thy  mountain  glade, 

Enwrap  the  soul  in  awe,  if  seen  or  sung ; 

Thy  Scott,  thy  Burns,  has  dwelt  on  every  tongue! 

Children  of  admiration's  glowing  throng  ! 

My  native  land  !  their  lives  to  thee  belong  !  " 

But  now  the  dazzling  domes  and  towering  walls 

Toward  which  the  bark  is  bent,  from  reverie  calls 

Our  wanderer's  lively  sense,  to  surges  blue. 

To  foam-capped  waters,  he  repeats,  "  adieu  ;  " 

Before  him  gleams  a  pallisade  of  mast — 

The  faithful  prow  is  by  the  wharf  at  last. 

The  anchor  cast,  the  weary  sails  are  furled, 

Upon  the  border  of  the  Western  World  ! 

He  steps  upon  the  firm,  unrivalled  shores 

That  foster  freedom's  growing  strength,  and  pours 

Impulsive  incense  from  a  t^reateful  heart, 


94  EPIC  POEM. 

That  beats  with  pulse  of  nature,  love'and  art. 

Scarce  time  the  stranger  city  to  survey, 

He  speeds  upon  his  love-directed  way ; 

A  mild  new  New  England  June — a  sun  of  gold, 

Lilac  and  rose,  and  snow-ball  blooms  unfold ; 

He  thinks  the  vales,  green-footstools  of  the  hills. 

As  fair  as  aught  whereon  the  dew  distils ; 

Their  pine-crowned  summits  e'en  as  near  to  heaven 

As  barren  crags  Loch  Lomond's  storms  have  riven ! 

Each  peaceful  habitation  claims  his  view, 

Each  village  spire,  with  admiration  new ; 

•'  And  here,"  exclaims,  "  the  noble,  pure,  and  kind, 

Contentment's  joys  and  honest  gains  may  find." 

Removed,  in  green  luxurious  solitude, 

Sequestered  from  the  clustering  hamlet  brood, 

Beside  a  graceful  curve  the  river  drew, 

"  Glen  Cottage  "  smiled  upon  his  anxious  view  ; 

A  mountain  brooklet  near  it  met  the  tide 

Of  Housatonic,  stream  of  Indian  pride.  ; 

AUghting  from  the  stage,  he  turned  to  seek  ' 

With  wondering  eye  and  story-telling  cheek, 

A  "bower"  by  "flowering  vines  and  boughs"  enclosed. 

Where  fair  Irene  in  summer  hours  reposed ; 

Below  a  knoll,  a  pathway  soon  he  found 

Meandering,  by  the  laughing  brook  it  wound, 

Till  where  it  rushed  more  eagerly  to  meet 

The  river's  breast,  he  saw  the  "  bower  "  complete. 

Its  low  o'erhanging  boughs  the  water  laved. 

And  round  it  wound  a  path  by  pebbles  paved ; 

Approaching  cautiously,  he  passed  the  door, 

By  vines  concealed,  he  kneeled  upon  the  floor ; 


MISSION    BklDK.  95 

The  sweet  retreat  became  intensely  dear, 
So  near  Irene  !  the  thouglit  unbound  a  tear. 
New  scenes  gave  no  rebuke  that  memory  claimed 
The  past  as  sacred,  yet  the  present  named. 
Advancing  joys,  new  ties  about  to  bind 
His  life  with  flowery  hopes  and  joys  refined. 
The  child  of  many  prayers  and  training  just, 
Not  there  did  he  forget  the  holy  trust 
A  grateful  heart  retains.     He  rose  subdued, 
With  pure  resolves  for  future  life  imbued. 
Remembering  that  Irene  each  sunset  hour 
Retires  alone  to  this  secluded  bower, 
He  thought  to  leave  a  word  for  her  sweet  eye, 
A  promise  thitherward  at  eve  to  hie  : 
"  Thy  cousin  Oscar  from  thy  father's  land 
Will  meet  thee  here  to  night  and  claim  thy  hand. 
In  pledge  of  friendship  and  devotion  true  ;  " 
Then  from  the  viney  alcove  he  withdrew, 
A  curlmg  tendrill  of  the  Virgin's  Bovver* 
To  tie  the  note,  with  leaf  and  snowy  flower, 
Laid  on  the  mossy  seat  the  strange  bouquet. 
Then  turning,  slow  retraced  his  thoughtful  way. 
At  noon  the  homely  village  inn  he  found. 
Wearied,  he  sought  a  rest  in  sleep  profound. 
The  royal  sun  gleamed  in  the  purple  West, 
Where  vailing  cloudlets  urged  the  day  to  rest ; 
.Melodious  heralds  of  advancing  night 
Gave  Oscar's  sanguine  heart  a  new  delight. 
As  with  the  eager  step  of  youth,  he  sought 
The  bower  where  morning  fancies  he  had  wrouglit. 
The  way  not  half  as  long  as  first  it  seemed, 
"  Clematis  Virginians. 


g6  EPIC  POEM. 

While  yet  trom  circling  hills  the  sunbeams  streamed. 

In  flush  of  hope  and  dignity  of  pride 

He  stood  again  the  unique  bower  beside  ; 

Soon,  floating  in  the  gentle  evening  breeze, 

Approaching  him,  a  snow-white  scarf  he  sees  ! 

Quick,  cautious,  in  a  thicket  near  he  hides, 

And  unobserved  the  strange  denouement  bides. 

Irene  passed  by  with  dancing,  joyous  air, 

Unseen,  he  saw  she  was — yes — very  fair  ! 

She  caroled  to  the  answering  birds  so  free. 

Her  music  gushed,  ay,  gushed  ethereally  ! 

Her  fairy  form  flew  on,  she  brushed  aside 

The  hanging  boughs,  hke  nymphs  of  wood  or  tide, 

She  seemed  a  rare,  mysterious,  beauteous  thing, 

Prepared  to  disappear  on  airy  wing  ! 

Her  form  was  hid  behind  the  closing  vine, 

And  Oscar  bowed  at  Beauty's  blooming  shrine  ! 

Arousing  from  a  trance  of  charming  thought. 

To  make  his  presence  known,  the  maid  he  sought. 

Before  her  half  reclining  form  he  stood, 

Their  brows  were  fanned  by  leaflets  of  the  wood ; 

"  Sweet  cousin  !  No  intruder  let  me  be, 

I've  travelled  far  my  love  to  offer  thee  : 

Thine  uncle's  son — may  I  present  my  hand 

In  greeting,  and  await  thy  soft  command  !  " 

"  Oscar !  thrice  welcome,  I  to  thee  extend. 

No  stranger  thou,  an  unexpected  friend, 

As  these  brief  words  convey,  and  I  perused 

Them  with  a  strange  delight  to  me  unused." 

He  gently  raised  her  yielding  hand,  and  prest 

His  reverent  lips,  then  laid  it  on  his  breast ; 

Then  sitting  down,  with  charming  smiles  they  spoke 


MISSION   BRIDE.  97 

Till  gathering  shades  their  happy  converse  broke. 
Along  the  way  the  river  currents  roam, 
She  leads  her  cousin  to  her  humble  home, 
Beside  the  garden  wall,  and  through  the  gate 
Where  in  the  moonlit  porch  her  parents  wait : 
Unconscious  movements  and  inquiring  eyes 
Betray  their  sudden,  undisguised  surprise  ; 
"  My  father  !  cousin  Oscar  ;  mother  dear. 
Behold,  one  kindred  friend  has  found  us  here ! 
I  met  him  in  the  bower  an  hour  ago, 
My  uncle's  son  it  is — it  is,  I  know !  " 
The  twain  advance  with  open  arms  to  greet 
A  brother's  child  :  they  meet  as  true  hearts  meet. 
"  My  boy !  thou'rt  welcome  here ;  thy  mother's  eye 
Is  thine  ;  thy  brow  like  hers  is  arched  and  high, 
I  see  the  classic  index  of  her  face; 
The  outlines  of  thy  father's  form  I  trace. 
How  camest  thou,  boy,  to  seek  this  alien  shore, 
To  find  thy  long  lost  uncle's  lowly  door  ?  " 
He  ceased  ;  the  matron  spake  with  gentle  word. 
The  deeps  of  youth's  bright  covered  stream  were  stirred  1 
"  Oscar !  dear  child  of  Scotia,  wild  and  blest, 
Wherein  my  broken-hearted  parents  rest, 
Whose  gowans  are  the  brightest,  and  whose  braes 
Were  friendly  in  my  sad  and  unblest  days ; 
Thy  ingle-sides  are  shrines  of  peace  and  truth, 
And  yet  I  left  them  in  my  loving  youth  ! 
Dear  Oscar !  hast  thou  come  to  love  and  cheer 
These  wanderers  from  home  and  kindred  dear  ? 
Long  may  the  noble  impulse  swell  thy  soul 
That  brought  thee  to  this  far  but  friendly  goal." 
The  nejjhew  bowed  with  deference  mute  yet  kind, 
7 


98  EPIC  POEM. 

Repressing  feelings  warm  but  undefined  ; 

Meanwhile  Irene  the  evening  meal  prepared, 

Which  with  sweet  interchange  of  thought,  they  shared, 

Night's  soothing  influence  clo3ed  the  social  scene 

And  each  retired  to  sleep  behind  its  screen. 

As  weeks  rolled  on,  the  lovers  grew  more  dear, 
The  thought  of  parting  called  from  each  a  tear. 
Their  hearts  were  plighted  ;  Oscar  of  Glenwayn, 
In  two  more  years  his  cousin-bride  should  claim  ! 
The  active  world  between  the  lovers  rushed. 
And  lingering  chimes  of  joy  grew  sofdy  hushed. 

The  future  laird  on  ocean's  cradling  breast. 

The  shores  grew  dim  in  cloud  vails  of  the  west ; 

Columbia  vanished  from  his  silent  gaze. 

And  all  around  was  nought  but  formless  haze — 

The  wave  beneath ;  the  space  above,  whence  stars 

Were  twinklmg  from  behind  ethereal  bars. 

Monotonous  the  weeks  wore  on  ;  a  life  at  sea 

Gave  Oscar's  mind  a  calm  ;  his  thought  roamed  free, 

It  reveled  in  the  heart's  young  dreams  to  build 

Bright  airy  structures  for  his  hope  to  gild. 

Diffusive  halos  from  the  storied  Past, 

Through  Memory's  aid  were  'round  Dumbarton  cast. 

And  kindling  with  the  wanderer's  return 

The  fire  that  may  in  patriot  bosoms  burn  ! 

He  pauses  on  the  silver-limpid  Clyde 

And  sweeps  his  eye  o'er  mount  and  moor-field  wide ; 

Warm  welling  tears  of  gratitude  and  joy 

Unite  the  manhood's  impulse  with  the  boy ; 

"  O,  never  let  my  steps — a  pilgrim — roam 


MISSION   BRIDE.  99 

From  thee,  my  father-land  !  my  glorious  home ! 
Most  eloquent,  heroic,  truth  declares 
High  deeds  inspired  of  thy  pure  mountain  airs, 
And  that  the  hea^t  that  loyal  swells  for  thee 
May  grasp  the  free-born  strength  of  liberty  ! 
Thou  Future  !  show  me  through  a  magic  glass, 
My  life,  by  God  decreed  in  thee  to  pass, 
Shed  radiance  on  its  brinks  of  danger,  sweep 
Their  clustering  roses  down,  lest  I  may  sleep 
Too  near  destruction's  awful  pit,  despair, 
And  roll,  unconscious  to  the  darkness  there  ! 
Forbid  it,  God — the  impious  wish  exprest 
To  fathom  secrets  of  thy  Triune  breast ; 
The  humble  acquiescent  of  thy  will. 
My  eyes  un vailed,  my  destiny  fulfill." 

His  thoughts  are  changed,  with  vigor  speeds  his  feet 
Toward  ancient  walls  in  view,  where  waters  meet 
Around  the  castle's  base  and  shine  away, 
Far  north  where  waits  the  bosom  of  Achray ; 
Ah  !  well  we  know  the  joy  his  presence  gives, 
As  friends  at  home  behold  that  Oscar  lives ! 
We  leave  him  now,  and  trace  the  gentle  life 
Of  that  fair  one  designed  to  be  his  wife. 

One  after  one  the  zodiacal  train 
With  each  peculiar  dress  robed  hill  and  plain  ; 
June  roses  died,  red  clover  blooms  grew  sere. 
Leaves  falling  told  the  autumn  of  the  year. 
When  bright  eyed  asters  wore  the  varying  tinge 
Of  distant  heavens  on  their  starry  fringe. 
Afar,  along  the  hills  the  crimsoned  glow 
Of  dying  verdure  faded,  dim  and  slow. 


loo  EPIC  POEM. 

And  evening  airs  spread  cooler  round  the  rill, 
And  in  the  pastures,  morning  dews  were  chill. 
The  fields  of  waving  grain  above  the  glen 
Had  ripened,  and  was  stored  in  barn  and  pen  ; 
No  more  was  seen  the  tasseled  crowns  of  maize — 
They  were  dethroned  amid  the  August  days  ; 
Their  yellow  treasures  for  the  future  stored. 
Fair  Plenty  smiled  amid  the  golden  hoard. 
Grand  Autumn  to  the  unknown  Mist-land  passed, 
Its  struggling  breath  absorbed  by  shivering  blast. 
Its  leaves  that  Summer's  emeralds  brightly  grew, 
Were  Hke  the  joys  our  later  loves  bestrew, 
As  life's  rude  storms  remorseless  rise  and  play, 
Unmindful  how  they  sweep  them  all  away  ! 

Irene  grew  lonely  then.     She  watched  the  star 
That  shone  o'er  her  beloved's  path  afar, 
Arcturus  'mong  his  dimmer  suns,  benign 
Shone  o'er  the  dark-robed  firs  a,  gem  divine. 
In  bright  companionship,  though  lower  down. 
With  Cynosure  upon  the  Zenith's  crown. 

O,  love  is  like  a  wandering  bird 

In  search  of  sunny  skies ; 
It  echoes  far — the  echoes  heard, 

Then  echo-hke  it  flies ! 

O  love  !  art  thou  a  fearless  child  ? 

Remembrancer  of  fears .' 
Dead  leaflets  show  where  roses  smiled, 

Bedewed  with  summer's  tears. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  loi 

Thou  vernal  consciousness  of  life ! 

Too  blooming  long  to  last ! 
Sweet  hoping  tenderness  of  strife, 

Preceding  sorrow's  blast. 

Irene,  recall  thy  roving  dreams  ! 

Let  nature  rest  again  ; 
Prepare  to  breast  revulsive  streams. 

To  nurse  affection's  pain. 

The  waning  months  of  Autumn  gave 
To  Housatonic's  gentle  wave, 
A  chilling  gloom  ;  its  fertile  vales 
Received  from  doubtful  passing  gales 
Dire  fever's  breath  ;  and  sickness  reigns 
In  new-built  homes,  on  hills  and  plains  ; 
While  Death  his  rapid  arrows  speeds, 
And  clothed  in  black  the  mourner  bleeds. 
The  wind  blew  shrill  one  cloudy  day. 
Within  the  cot  a  sufferer  lay. 
Whose  tide  of  life  was  ebbing  low, 
Well  nigh  congealed  its  purple  flow; 
See!  watchers  o'er  the  couch  bend  low, 
A  few  faint  words  of  farewell  said,  i 

And  Death  laid  low  a  father's  head. 
That  mother,  taught  by  years  of  toil 
From  heart  rebellion  to  recoil. 
Now  while  the  gathering  shadows  close 
Damp  folds  of  grief  around  her,  knows 
That  faith  has  power  to  light  the  tomb, 
And  bear  her  soul  above  its  gloom ! 
Round  every  memory  of  the  dead 
Does  love  divine  its  radiance  shed; 


102  EPIC  POEM. 

She  weeps,  but  calmly  bows  and  prays, 
And  God,  in  gentle  trust,  obeys. 
Irene  beneath  the  storm  of  grief 
First  flutters  like  an  aspen  leaf; 
Unused  to  sorrow's  crushing  air. 
Her  feelings  border  on  despair; 
Yet  from  her  mother's  faith  she  learns, 
And  soon  the  hand  of  God  discerns. 
And  meekly  bowing,  grows  subdued. 
With  humble  love  to  God,  imbued. 

Before  some  faggots  blazing  bright, 
They  sat  alone  one  chilly  night. 
As  time  flew  on  with  silent  wing. 
Nearer  to  Winter  and  to  Spring; 
Irene  the  silene  broke  :  "  The  time 
Is  long  since  Oscar  left  our  clime ; 
Three  dreary  months  and  yet  no  word 
For  me  has  come — no  spirit  bird ! 
My  heart  is  doubly  sad  in  this, 
I've  little  hope  for  future  bliss  ; 
I  sometimes  fear  his  cold  form  sleeps 
In  ocean's  dark  unyielding  deeps  !  " 

"  Sweet  daughter,  find  thy  highest  joy  in  prayer, 
Nor  ever  of  the  future  hope  too  much  ; 
Allow  no  doubts  to  darken  present  good. 
Committed  to  thy  Savior's  care,  thy  days 
Shall  each  unite — a  golden  link,  to  bind 
Thy  thoughts  of  happiness,  immortal  hopes. 
Hark!" 


MISSION  BRIDE.  103 

The  post-boy  broke  the  earnest  scene, 
"  A  letter  here  for  Miss  Irene;  " 
She  caught  it  with  a  pensive  smile, 
Unconscious  tears  gushed  forth  the  while ; 
She  saw  the  stamp,  and  broke  the  seal, 
With  fervor  youth  may  only  feel ; 
'Twas  Oscar's  word,  'twas  Oscar's  thought, 
His  name  was  with  her  being  wrought. 

"  Irene;   I  met  thee  long  ago  in  dreams, 

In  childhood's  rosy  morn,  before  the  sun 

Of  life  dispelled  the  infant  dews  that  lay 

On  every  reaching  tendril  of  the  heart, 

Which  shone — each  one  a  sphere  of  crystal  joy  ! 

And  these  were  dreams  of  day  as  well  as  night ; 

My  mother's  nursery  tales,  in  glowing  hues, 

Made  pictures  of  a  little  blue-eyed  girl. 

Who  lived  the  wide  blue  field  of  waters  o'er,- 

Within  a  land  afar,  but  litde  known. 

Whose  father  hence  had  roamed  in  other  times. 

The  still  dear  scion  of  our  noble  hne. 

I  grew  to  love  my  cousin  then,  and  wild 

Sweet  fancies  filled  my  brain  ;   I  thought  to  see 

That  gentle  one  in  future  years—///;'  wife  ! 

To  find  her  in  those  flowery  woods,  the  bloom 

Most  fair,  and  bring  her  to  my  ancient  home. 

Swift  years  flew  by  ;  rejoicing  in  my  youth, 

I  travelled  many  leagues,  across  the  sea. 

And  found  the  gentle  one  in  future  mine  ! 

So  now,  my  Bird  of  Paradise  !   I'd  breathe, 

In  this  reality  prophetic  love 

And  urge  a  sweet  injunction  o'er  and  o'er. 


I04  EPIC  POEM. 

'Tis  this  :  remember  how  thine  Oscar  loves! 
O,  would  I  might  enfold  thee  to  this  heart ! 
Kind  fairies  !  make  a  plume  of  every  golden  tress, 
And  then  Irene  will  fly  to  me ! 

She  would 
Not  pause  'till  o'er  the  hills,  around  this  glen. 
The  sacred  hills  my  childhood  thought  inbound 
The  blooming  world  !  Glad,  buoyant,  o'er  the  blue 
Expanse  of  ocean,  to  old  Scotland's  realm. 
Where  on  the  heather's  purple  cloud  I  sit, 
To  welcome  her,  my  spirit  bird !  Oh,  come  ! 
I'll  press  thy  panting  heart  to  mine,  sweet  one  ! 
And  like  two  blended  streams,  our  lives  no  more 
Shall  flow  apart :  our  clasping  selves,  ordained 
For  one  pure  end,  one  radiant  sphere  of  joy, 
Shall  on  toward  perfect  being — life  eterne  ! 
'Tis  long  since  we  were  parted,  love !  I  passed 
The  homeward  journey  safely  ;  now  I  breathe 
My  native  air,  and  deem  it  purer  than 
Before  my  wanderings  ;  life  is  stronger  now. 
Its  purposes  more  noble,  duty  clear. 
My  hopes  as  bright,  but  more  serene. 

I  wait 
For  tidings,  gentle  words  of  love  and  truth, 
From  thee.     My  darling !  I  am  ever  thine." 

December's  Borean  breezes  past, 
While  genial  spring  her  shroud  o'er  cast ; 
Proud  Nature,  Summer's  requiem  sings. 
And  on  the  earth  its  trappings  flings. 
'Tis  time  for  sweet  and  solemn  thought, 
Within  that  home  a  change  is  v/rought. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  105 

A  dimmer  light  pervades  its  hearth, 
Paternal  strength,  and  love,  and  worth  ; 
Its  absence  every  day  combines. 
To  give  a  shadow  to  their  minds  ; 
But  Christian  hope  and  faith  still  prove 
The  cheerful  smiles,  the  peace  of  love. 

To  other  times  and  scenes,  my  muse  repair  ! 

Unclose  the  bars  that  bind  the  mighty  Past ; 
Let  distance  flee  ;  conduct  me  onward  where 

We  left  our  hero  in  his  home  at  last ! 
A  patriot  breast,  and  humble  Christian  worth, 

A  mind  well  balanced,  and  a  spotless  name. 
Virtues  which  from  immortal  hopes  have  birth, 

Gives  manhood  right  to  bliss  and  meeds  of  fame! 
Equipped  for  life's  parade,  behold  him  now, 

Of  Stirlingshire  the  pride  !  There's  manly  grace, 
And  wisdom  stamped  upon  his  open  brow  ; 

The  scholar-statesman  of  his  Highland  race! 
Ai  this  bright  hour  in  Oscar's  early  life, 

When  love  before  him  hangs  its  pictures  clear, 
A  civil  broil  begins,  a  deadly  strife, 

Which  wraps  the  land  in  desolation  drear. 

Prince  Charles,  descendant  of  the  Stuart  line. 

The  line  old  Scotia  gave  to  England's  throne. 
Became  extinct  in  royal  Ann's  decline 

When  Hanoverian  sovereigns  first  were  known, 
"  The  Chevalier,"  sustained  by  Gallic  hordes. 

Upheld  by  Papal  promise,  now  stood  forth, 
Demanding  homage  from  the  Scottish  lords, 

In  right  of  Second  James,  his  grand-sire's  worth. 


io6  EPIC  POEM. 

The  standard  of  rebellion  waving  high, 

Now  floats  above — o'er  castle,  hill,  and  dale ; 
Proud  chiefs  and  chieftains  to  the  standard  fly, 

Each  other's  arms  with  speed  to  countervail. 
Here  streams  the  Flag  of  England,  there  the  Prince; 

Beneath  their  folds  the  several  parties  range  ; 
M'Gregors,  Gordons,  Donalds,  all  evince 

Their  hatred  of  the  Saxon  interchange. 

Dear  Caledonia  shall  be  free  again, 

Her  Stuarts  still  shall  wield  the  sceotred  power; 
Rome  and  her  mitred  faith  they  will  sustain, 

Will  give  their  blood  in  the  decisive  hour  ! 
The  Compact  of  the  Nations  they  disown  : 

If  true,  'twas  England  first  that  broke  the  seal ! 
Faithless,  their  Second  James  she  did  dethrone. 

Against  religion's  hope  and  Scotland's  weal. 

The  royal  standard  bears  its  colors  high, 

The  sacred  parchment  leaf  by  leaf  unrolls ; 
"  Here  is  your  signet,"  Englishmen  reply, 

"  Your  voice  with  ours  this  lovely  isle  controls — 
False  James,  his  trust,  his  country  did  betray ; 

Its  Constitution  trampled  'neath  his  feet, 
Unworthy,  thus  to  hold  the  kingly  sway  ! 

Britons  and  Scots,  alike,  did  Mary  greet !  " 
Thus  on  the  side  of  Royal  George,  behold 

Each  loyal  Scot ;  brave  Douglas,  Scotland's  pride, 
Montrose  and  Lenox,  with  M'Pherson  bold; 

The  land,  alas  !  a  civil  war  must  bide  ! 
With  zealous  heart,  young  Oscar  joins  the  band, 

The  force  that  would  a  rebel  host  repel, 
A  warrior  now  with  battle-axe  and  brand 

To  guard  the  city,  mountain-pass,  and  fell. 


MISSION   BRIDE.  107 

The  bold  insurgent  force  with  rapid  inarch 

Sweeps  o'er  the  North— her  straths  and  fells  among; 
The  lowland  dales  recall,  they  countermarch, 

Their  numbers  doubling  from  the  rallying  throng. 
The  royal  band  their  strength  to  measure  dread  ; 

Their  leader,  Cope,  with  trembling  courage  stands; 
The  moving  columns  soon  with  vigor  spread 

To  wait  the  Chevalier  at  Preston  Pans ; 
Their  ready  lines  await,  nor  wait  they  long; 

The  fiery  Gaul  in  arms,  the  stalwart  Scot, 
Their  leader  bold  in  youthful  vigor  strong. 

Pressed  on  the  charge  —  th'  attack — the  counterplot. 
The  sun  in  beauty  from  the  Orient  born, 

O'er  Stirling's  hills  its  golden  beamlets  fall ; 
Hearts  warm  with  life,  responsive  to  the  morn, 

Must  sleep  in  death  beneath  the  evening's  pall. 

Now  hark  !  A  distant  sound — a  stifled  hum  ; 

It  nears;  the  drum  ;  the  trumpet's  hoarser  note  ; 
Charles  the  Pretender;  see!  his  legions  come, 

In  heaven's  blue  dome  his  victory  is  wrote. 
Now  face  to  face  the  ready  warriors  stand. 

The  yeomen  of  old  England's  feudal  soil, 
And  plaided  Scot  with  targe  and  glittering  brand. 

Impatient,  hope  the  rebel  troops  to  foil. 
Before  their  ranks  the  leaders  urge  their  cause. 

Inspire  each  host  with  patriotic  zeal ; 
This  pleads  the  Stuart's  rights,  that  England's  laws, 

ThiSy  Britain's  power,  and  that,  fair  Scotia's  weal. 

Alas !  that  stern  Ambition — child  of  hate. 
For  empty  fame — for  individual  pride, 


io8  EPIC  POEM. 

Should  steep  in  kindred  blood — should  desolate 

The  dearest  ties  that  in  the  heart  abide ! 
Their  voices  hush  ;  portentous  silence  reigns, 

Like  prelude  of  the  earthquake's  trembling  crush, 
A  shout  is  heard  along  old  Preston's  plains : 

"To  charge!"  "  To  charge  !  "  The  hosts  to  battle  rush. 
Sharp  lightnings  flash  along  each  marshalled  line, 

Proud  England's  soldiers  leaden  missiles  boast  j 
But  Scot  and  Gaul  in  fearless  rush  combine 

To  break  her  serried  ranks,  to  rout  the  host. 
The  wasting  stream  of  life,  the  dying  moan 

Is  silent  'mid  the  din  of  clashing  steel. 
The  last  faint  prayer  is  breathed  to  God  alone, 

'Neath  tramp  of  furious  steed,  'mid  thundering  peal. 
M'Gregor,  Argyle,  Campbell,  Breadalbane, 

Their  chargers  flashing  fire ;  on,  on  they  dash, 
A  whirlwind  surge !  a  Highland  hurricane  ! 

Commingling  death  within  its  deafening  crash. 
And  now  the  ranks — the  allied  host  gives  way 

Before  the  Scotsman's  fierce  and  firm  attack ; 
The  Briton  flies  before  the  dread  array. 

And  blood-lines  pencil  his  retreating  track. 
Nor  fear,  the  embattled  troops  impels  to  flight 

The  conflict  death's  red  triumphs  interweaves ; 
Full  many  an  English  sabre  flashing  bright, 

And  Highland  brand,  a  rebel  helmet  cleaves ! 
The  bold  Pretender  flushed  anew  with  pride, 

His  hopes  with  wild  enthusiasm  burn  ; 
Bright  victory  perches  on  Sedition's  side, 

Five  hundred  slain  the  purpled  plains  inurn. 
Alas !  Proud  Stuart !  Thy  desires  shall  fail. 

Though  now  thy  star-lit  triumphs  glitter  high ; 


MISSION   BRIDE.  109 

Brave  Cumberlandnhy  vict'ries  will  assail, 
And  on  CuUoden's  moor  thy  hopes  shall  die. 

Beyond  the  lowland  vales  of  fair  Monteith, 

Beside  the  flowing  Turk — a  broad  defile, 
A  score  of  weary  soldiers  halt  beneath 

A  canopy  of  oaks  to  rest  awhile. 
The  Mid-land  slopes  in  distant  southern  line 

In  verdant  prospect  undulating  spread; 
Far  north  are  Highland  hillocks  clad  in  pine, 

In  dreamy  distance  Ledi  rears  its  head. 
Across  the  river  Turk  does  Loch  Achray, 

Sleep  sweetly  in  its  fringe  of  heather  blue, 
Where  once  of  yore,  upon  a  hill-side  gray 

Sprang  up  the  Alpine  Clan  of  Roderic  Dhu ; 
Upon  the  shore  of  lovely  Vennachar, 

Around  their  leader  drew  the  warriors  brave 
In  sight  of  Highland  mounts  and  glens  afar. 

To  rest  upon  the  battle-axe  and  glave. 
Reclining  there  upon  the  friendly  ground. 

The  hour-glass  counts  the  silent  time  away. 
The  sentinel  surveys  the  plateau's  bound, 

Till  slanting  sunbeams  show  the  waning  day. 
Aroused,  the  band  their  tethered  chargers  rein. 

To  cross  the  bridge  and  gain  the  distant  pass ; 
Within  its  rock  bound  barriers  to  remain 

'Till  England's  arms  her  borders  can  repass. 
But  hark!  "the  tramp  of  steeds!  "  '"Tis  from  the  West,!" 

Thc're  full  in  view,  an  angry  rel)el  host ! 
Their  score  is  trebled!  "  Flee  !  "  'Tis  life's  behest ; 

Pursuers  and  pursued  from  sight  are  lost  I 
The  sun  had  nearly  reached  his  western  home. 

The  peasant  left  his  field  in  wild  alarm, 


no  EPIC  POEM. 

While  rushed  the  steel-clad  host  in  thundering  tone, 

Like  winds  that  herald  winter's  howling  storm  I 
The  charge  is  urged  with  speed  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

Miles  pass  in  flight — long  distance  intervenes; 
Young  Oscar  marks  the  rebels'  scattering  trail, 

And  hope  revives  as  safety  supervenes : 
A  voice  rings  out!  'Tis  Malcom's  son's  command: 

"Turn,  turn  upon  our  foes,  the  death-sweep  give! 
Shout  for  King  George !  Let  battle-axe  and  brand 

Cut  down  that  murderous  band  unfit  to  live." 
As  torrents  from  their  pent-up  channels  rush, 

With  maddening  tide  in  their  resistless  path 
Sweeping  in  grandeur  as  their  waters  crush. 

And  bury  human  structures  in  their  wrath, 
So  the  retreating  band  their  steps  retrace. 

And  pour  destruction  on  their  scattered  foes ; 
The  foremost  hopeless  sink  in  death  apace. 

And  shouts  of  pain  and  victory  arose. 
Ten  battle-axes  red,  the  story  told, 

Ten  claymores  drank  the  life-blood  current  sped ; 
Clan  Ronalds,  Camerons,  Morgans,  Grahams  bold, 

Prostrate  and  lifeless  mingled  with  the  dead. 
This  unexpected  charge — this  coup-de-main, 

Arrested  fierce  pursuit  and  left  a  dread 
In  every  bosom  of  the  rebel  train. 

And  Oscar  with  his  men  in  triumph  fled. 
Fear  paralyzed  the  stern,  rebellious  band, 

As  on  their  slaughtered  comrades'  forms  they  gazed, 
And  saw  the  vital  current  stain  the  sand 

As  death  in  silence  chill,  their  eyeballs  glazed. 
Their  leader  slain,  pursuit  they  cease  to  press; 

Amid  a  score  of  dead  which  tells  the  tale. 


MISSION    BRIDE.  in 

His  corse  is  borne  along  in  mute  distress, 

As  back  to  Preston  Pans  they  wind  their  trail. 

Now  droops  the  royal  ensign,  shadows  brood 

O'er  hill  and  glen  ;  Charles  Edward  bears  the  sway 
In  his  triumphant  march  to  Holyrood, 

His  conquering  host  press  on  without  delay. 
The  lowlands  tremble  at  his  near  approach  ; 

War  sweeps  the  land  from  Forth  to  Tweed  between 
Eskdale  and  Liddesdale!  list,  your  foes  encroach 

On  your  sweet  vales,  and  sweep  thtir  verdant  sheen 
There  leave  we  him  whose  sanguine  arm  would  crush 

Dissenting  faith,  the  Hanoverian  reign, 
And  thus  restore  proud  Rome  without  a  blush. 

Though  Smithfield  martyrs  deep  record  the  stain; 
We  leave  him  flushed  with  hope  on  England's  soil, 

But  soon  his  arms  shall  meet  a  fearful  doom  ; 
In  dark  despair  his  bosom  shall  recoil, 

And  find  in  foreign  lands  a  lonely  tomb. 
We  leave  the  Chevalier,  and  Oscar  trace, 

When  from  the  skirmish  late,  to  honor  true, 
He  crossed  the  Turk,  and  found  at  length  a  place 

Among  the  rocky  cliffs  of  Ben  Venu. 
The  surging  tide  of  war  awhile  is  still, 

The  troops  insurgent  rest  on  Derby's  heights; 
North  Scotland's  lords,  whose  patriot  bosoms  thrill, 
Assemble  to  discuss  the  Nation's  rights. 

At  length  the  summer's  sun  begins  to  wane, 
The  barley  and  the  wheat  are  ripening  bright, 

The  Earth's  increase,  the  flushing  fruits  again 
The  cultivator's  gladsome  hopes  invite. 


112  EPIC  POEM. 

Scotland,  alas  !  few  smiles  tJiy  sons  await, 

War's  devastating  hand  has  traced  thy  doom  ; 
While  dark  rebellion  moves  the  car  of  state. 

The  land  must  be  submerged  in  hopeless  gloom. 
Let  Wisdom,  child  of  Heaven,  thy  efforts  guide. 

Nor  drench  thy  soil  in  thine  own  living  stream, 
To  satisfy  an  alien^s  lust  and  pride, 

And  vivify  corrupt  Ambition's  dream  ! 
From  East,  from  West,  from  North,  a  gathered  host 

Grouped  on  an  esplanade  anear  St.  Bride, 
Uplift  to  God  their  supplicating  voice 

That  His  own  hand  their  future  course  may  guide ! 
Id  earnest  thought  for  Scotland's  highest  weal, 

They  strive  in  faith  their  plans  to  interweave. 
To  bind  with  patriot  links,  and  holy  zeal, 

The  sundered  clans  whom  sophistries  deceive. 
As  scattered  clouds  by  winds  are  hurried  forth. 

Are  whirled  in  wrath  along  the  air-built  way. 
While  sunbeams  through  them  on  the  green-clad  earth, 

Pour  down  the  benison  of  lustrous  day, 
So  war's  dark  forms  and  wild  sulphurous  airs 

Which  now  old  Scotia's  hills  and  glens  o'erspread, 
In  threat'ning  aspect  which  around  her  bears, 

Shall  flee,  and  peace  its  light  and  gladness  shed. 
A  close  debate,  and  forth  the  notes  of  peace 

Arose,  rebuking  din  and  battle-cry ; 
"  From  strife  tumultuous,  chieftains,  let  us  cease  ! 

The  slogan  dire  no  more  shall  rend  the  sky  !  " 
Such,  such  the  voice  of  every  faithful  Scot, 

The  wise  conclusion  made  before  St.  Bride; 
Its  echoes  trembled  far  from  cliff  and  grot, 

And  thundered  down  Ben  Ledi's  listening  side  ! 


MISSION  BRIDE.  113 

They  rose  again  and  rolled  o'er  fell  and  glen, 

The  cushat  dove  more  buoyant  mounted  high, 
Exulting  in  her  sweep  around  Ben  An, 

She  seemed  an  Ariel  of  the  cloudless  sky  ! 
Some  chiefs  are  absent  whose  accord  they  prize, 

Clan  Ronald,  Cameron  bold,  and  proud  Argyle — 
Will  he  return  and  thus  immortalize 

His  ducal  crown — the  Nation  reconcile  ? 
Will  he,  proud  ruler  of  the  Western  glade, 

His  sword  ensheath,  his  buckler  cast  aside. 
Disband  his  clansmen  to  the  plow  and  spade. 

And  loyal  to  King  George  in  faith  abide  ? 

Then  rose  a  lord  of  fine  commanding  mien, 

His  words  the  anxious  listeners  enchain  ; 
A  clear  and  fearless  eye  bespeaks  his  strene, 

'Tis  Malcom,  counselor  of  fair  Glenwayn. 
"  List !  men  of  Scotland,  list !  I  now  propose 

To  send  a  message  to  the  absent  Duke, 
Our  purpose  show,  our  hopes  and  fears  disclose, 

Impending  ruin  thus  we  may  rebuke  ; 
Our  duty  done,  results  with  Heaven  we  leave, 

Let  Argyle  understand  the  Highland  voice, 
I'o  honor  bright  his  noble  soul  will  cleave 

And  Scotland  in  her  justice  shall  rejoice." 

No  voice  dissenting,  with  one  loud  acclaim 

The  colligation  cordially  accept 
The  wise  proposal,  and  proceed  to  name 

The  men  who  shall  the  ordinance  direct : 
The  lord  of  Buchan  and  the  brave  Monteith, 

The  thane  of  Inverness,  in  council  grave; 
8 


114    .  EPIC  POEM. 

To  these  were  joined  Glenwayn,  and  Duncan  Keith, 

Men  famed,  in  council  wise,  in  battle  brave. 
Commissioned  safe  to  bear  the  rescript  bond 

To  Lord  Argyle,  from  council  at  St.  Bride, 
Are  Fergus  of  Monteith,  and  Oscar  found. 

Courageous,  dauntless  in  their  manly  pride ! 
Their  labor  done,  the  convocation  kneel 

In  solemn  gratitude  and  love  to  God ; 
A  thousand  hearts  most  fervently  appeal 

For  blessings  on  Old  Scotia's  brotherhood  ? 
Ben  Ledi  hears  the  prayer,  the  mounts  respond, 

Old  Ben  Venu  by  earthquake  forces  riven. 
Stands  firm  to  bless  the  consecrated  bond. 

And  lift  the  trembling  accents  up  to  Heaven. 


Hope,  sweet  affiance  of  the  human  breast ! 

Kindled  delight  in  many  a  Highland  home 
As  spread  the  tidings  North,  and  East,  and  West, 

Of  love  and  joy,  of  peaceful  days  to  come. 
Beneath  a  lonely  mountain's  shaggy  side. 

Where  Brachlin's  dashing  noisy  waves  enlarge. 
The  convoys  urge  their  course  in  hasty  stride ; 

They  cUmb  the  heights  and  span  the  threat'ning  gorge; 
Behold  upon  their  left  the  Trossach  cliffs ! 

Huge  as  the  piles  that  heap  New  England's  shore, 
Each  thunder-riven  summit  upward  lifts 

Its  calm  beatitude  fore  verm  ore  ! 
Here  cease  my  pen  :   Kind  reader,  wouldst  thou  share 

Unseen  their  grandeur  wild  ?     Then  careful  take 
The  lays  of  Scott — they're  pictured  nobly  there 

In  Canto  first — the  Lady  of  the  Lake. 


MISSION   BRIDE.  115 

The  sun  had  doffed  in  pride  his  noontide  blaze, 

And  to  his  westering  course  forever  true, 
The  shades  of  evening  fell  in  darkening  maze 

Adown  the  eastern  side  of  Ben  Venu. 
Beneath  its  foot  the  lovely  Katrine  lay, 

As  if  the  solitudes  it  would  beguile, 
And  calmly  rest  till  morn's  returning  ray 

Should  give  new  lustres  to  its  emerald  isle. 

Lo !  cloud  on  cloud  shuts  in  the  darkening  West ; 

As  o'er  Ben  Lomond  hangs  the  murky  shroud. 
It  undulates  a  black  protentous  crest ; 

Beneath  its  gloom  the  mountain  stands  unbowed ! 
Hark!  'tis  the  thunder's  peal — the  cloud  upheaves, 

Luw  solemn  notes  prolong  the  dying  sound ; 
The  hairbell  trembles,  roses  drop  their  leaves. 

Again  !  more  loud  :  the  crashing  peals  rebound  1 
As  rolls  the  dark  and  turgid  mass  along. 

The  lightning's  flash  an  awful  scene  displays, 
A  sense  of  tempest  fury,  wild  and  strong, 

Threatening  the  pillars  of  the  earth  to  raze ! 
While  falls  a  sea  of  rattling  hail  and  rain, 

And  flames  are  spread  from  th'  electric  spark, 
Oscar  and  Fergus  briefly  hope  to  gain 

A  shelter  in  a  neighboring  cavern  dark ; 
O  futile  hope  !   Bright  Oscar  !  wert  thou  born 

To  seal  this  hour  with  sudden  death  !  a  doom 
So  unexpected  in  tiiy  manhood's  morn  ! 

Ben  Lomond  echoes :  "  Matthooii's  morning  doom  /  " 
A  moment's  pause,  a  pale  sulphurous  blast 

Shoots  down  in  silence  from  the  breaking  cloud — 
'Tis  quickly  gone — the  awful  moment's  past. 

And  Oscar  quivers  in  his  storm-torn  shroud  ! 


ii6  EPIC  POEM. 

'Tis  sad  to  see  from  eyes  we  love 
The  flashing  lights  ot  life  grow  dim, 

Fade  lingering,  ere  in  courts  above 
They  glow  in  an  eternal  gleam. 

'Tis  mournful  to  the  tender  heart 
To  know,  a  voice  it  loves  to  list. 

Grows  weaker,  weaker  as  depart 
The  sunset  glows  in  evening's  mist. 

'Tis  sad  and  cold  to  feel  that  soon 
A  loving  clasp  will  cease  to  press 

Joys  to  our  hearts,  as  sweets  in  June, 
Are  richer  when  the  rose  we  press. 

But  'tis  a  holy  bliss  to  feel 

That  kindred  souls  may  meet  above, 

Where  death  no  more  can  waste  or  steal 
The  warmth  of  life,  the  light  of  love. 

The  months  of  cold  were  gone ;  mild  Spring  began 
To  woo  the  blossoms  forth ;  new  waters  ran 
In  liquid  light,  and  free ;  last  year's  decay 
Was  all  forgot  before  the  smile  of  May  ! 
Glen  Cottage  stood  in  doubtful  shadow  still. 
Within  was  gloomy  fear  of  coming  ill, 
Forebodings  sad  the  mother  scarce  concealed, 
Her  slower  step  her  wasting  health  revealed. 

"  Sweet  mother !  why  that  trembling,  tearful  cheek  ? 
When  pressed  upon  mine  own,  you  rarely  speak  ! 
Your  dear  caress  was  always  tenderness, 
But  now  your  weeping  eyes  my  hopes  oppress ! 
Each  kiss  I  leave  upon  your  calm  pale  brow 


MISSION   BRIDE.  117 

Seems  one  the  less  cold  tate  will  there  allow  ; 

But  taught  by  you  that  consummated  love 

Shall  thrill  united  souls  in  bliss  above, 

I  still  will  pray,  and  ask  the  Lord  to  give 

His  grace  and  strength  that  I  may  cheerful  live  : 

But  when  I  deem  an  orphan's  lot  mine  own, 

I  shrink  from  that  dread  word,  alone,  alone ! 

O,  must  I  live  the  intervening  years 

In  silent  hope  till  sorrow  disappears  ? 

Must  struggle  on  without  a  parent's  care, 

And  brave  the  world's  suspicious,  friendless  air  ? 

I  may  perchance  be  doomed  to  many  woes, 

But,  walking  in  the  way  my  mother  chose, 

I  shall  unmurmuring  endure  them  all, 

'Till  death  and  Jesus  shall  my  soul  recall ; 

My  form  perchance  to  stranger  mould  consigned, 

Mourned,  save  by  few,  for  memories  left  behind." 

Irene,  o'ercame  by  sadness,  ceased  the  strain, 

And  silence  but  increased  the  mental  pain, 

'Till  words,  incited,  from  her  mother's  lips, 

Like  shades  penumbral  in  the  sun's  eclipse, 

A  darkening  circle  seemed  more  clear  to  bind 

Around  the  daughter's  contemplative  mind. 

"  Dear  child  !  'twas  ever  tliy  dear  father's  care. 
And  mine,  to  plant  the  germs  of  holiness 
Within  thy  virgin  heart  for  future  bloom  ; 
To  give  thee  early  knowledge  of  commands 
The  wise  Creator  has  imposed  on  all 
The  creatures  of  his  power  and  love.     Thou  art 
Responsible  for  every  act — each  thouglu ! 
From  each  shall  spring  thy  hapjMness  or  grief; 


ii8  EPIC  POEM. 

This  world  is  not  the  place  for  constant  gloom  ; 

A  heart  desiring  good,  a  life  of  prayer, 

And  sweet  submission  to  the  laws  of  life, 

Shall  reap  the  fruits  of  peace — the  smiles  of  truth. 

Thou  art  a  gentle,  duteous  child :  some  pangs 

Assail  my  erring  heart  when  pressed  with  thoughts 

That  soon  my  failing  form  must  yield  its  breath 

To  angel  ministry,  to  conduct  safe, 

In  all  its  disembodied,  fluttering  sensa 

Of  mysteries  immortal,  opening  strange  ! 

But,  ah  !  I  will  submissively  resign 

My  darling  to  the  orphan's  friend  :   Few  years 

At  most  and  I  shall  meet  thee,  dear,  in  Paradise  ! 

To  God  I  trust  thy  promise ;  for  some  high 

And  useful  end  my  only  child  may  live. 

Be  true  to  Oscar ;  when  the  time  expires. 

Thy  nuptials  consummated,  freely  go 

Where'er  thy  husband's  way  in  life  may  lead, 

Where'er  thy  husband's  home,  that  home  be  thine, 

Thy  duties  be  thy  joys ;   with  cheerful  step, 

Whether  in  humble  or  exalted  walk, 

Let  all  thy  days  be  true  to  woman's  trust. 

Sometimes,  Irene,  does  love  forget  its  truth. 

When  all  its  early  glow  grows  dim  and  chill. 

As  newer,  brighter  pictures  charm  the  mind ! 

O  cultivate  the  violets  of  faithfulness  : 

Let  no  suspicious  weed  their  growth  obscure  : 

Work  faithfully.     Wait  patiently,  and  God 

Thy  destiny  shall  mark  and  guide,  nor  thou 

Canst  change  the  flutter  of  one  leaf 

Of  life,  nor  hue  of  one  sweet  flower  of  joy 

Unaided  by  Omnipotence  and  prayer  : 

May  wisdom  be  reflected  in  thy  soul !  " 


MISSION  BRIDE.  119 

A  mantle  of  aerial  birth, 
In  its  mysterious  fall  to  Earth, 
Endraped  the  grountl  in  voiceless  night 
\Vith  soft  surprise  of  flaky  white  ! 
Each  porous,  fair,  adhering  part 
Was  fashioned  with  a  cunning  art, 
In  one  pure  vesture,  all  combined, 
As  noble  thoughts  compose  the  mind. 
AU'unexpectedly  it  fell. 
When  vernal  bloom  ht  up  the  dell, 
And  balmy  airs  had  lent  their  breath 
To  frosts  benighted  on  the  heath  ; 
While  May  was  whispering  of  June  ; 
Before  the  warming  gaze  of  noon, 
It  melted  silently  away, 
Its  life  was  shorter  than  a  day  ! 

Glen  Cottage  ere  that  day  was  gone 
Sent  forth  a  low  and  sorrowing  moan; 
And  soft  as  melts  the  vernal  snows, 
As  dew  falls  on  a  chaliced  rose  ; 
And  calm  as  floats  the  zephyr's  breath 
A  mother  passed  away  in  death  ! 
A  few  low  words  and  all  was  still 
As  winter  chains  can  bind  a  nil. 
In  sweet  arrangement  on  her  breast, 
Her  small  cold  hands  were  laid  to  rest! 
Awakened  by  the  Sun  of  Heaven, 
A  glad  immortal  action  given, 
Her  spirit  soared  above  the  skies, 
Delightful  powers  to  exercise  ; 
She  passed  in  Christian  faith  away. 
Her  night  of  life  awoke  to  day  I 


I20  EPIC  POEM. 

"  My  mother  !  Art  thou  dead?  Oh,  speak 
Alas  !  there's  coldness  on  thy  cheek ; 
Dear  mother,  look  once  more — once  more 
Upon  thy  loving  child  !  once  more  ! 
No,  no,  my  heart,  it  cannot  be, 
These  eyes  shall  ope  no  more  on  me. 
Remains  there  in  this  clouded  world, 
A  guardian  for  thine  orphan  girl  ? 
My  Oscar's  presence  might  awake 
To  hope  my  heart  that  else  will  break." 
Then  burst  her  grief  in  tears  like  rain, 
And  failed  her  tongue  to  end  the  strain, 
While  o'er  the  lifeless  form  she  bent 
In  sorrow's  meek  abandonment, 
'Till  softly,  gentle  arms  removed 
Her  from  the  one  she  best  had  loved. 


The  village  of  the  dead  !  What  solemn  air, 
What  silent  gloom  its  habitudes  declare  ! 
Their  swaying  daisies  have  a  paler  crown. 
Their  bends  the  Babylonian  willow  down, 
Carnation  blooms  have  there  a  sickly  smell, 
There  grasses  an  ephemeral  lesson  tell. 
And  ever  with  the  grave-yard's  mystic  gloom, 
Associates  the  brier's  *  pale  hued  bloom. 
I  now  remember,  when  a  wandering  child, 
I  dare  not  pluck  the  scarlet  berries  wild ; 
The  bright  strawberries  on  the  grassy  mound, 
For  every  inch  was  consecrated  ground ! 
O,  children  have  strange  senses  unexplained, 

*  Rosa    Rubiginosa. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  121 

Whose  influence  is  after,  long  retained; 
They  are  not  vagaries  nor  passing  dreams, 
Although  existence  then  enchantment  seems. 

Mournfully,  mournfully,  tolls  the  village  bell ; 
Low  dying  murmurs  sink  in  copse  and  dell ; 
See,  slowly,  slowly,  winds  a  measured  train 
Around  the  hill,  above  the  river-plane; 
Nearer,  nearer  to  the  black-edged  gates, 
Where  damp  and  deep  a  new-made  grave  awaits ; 
Ah  !  who  has  fastened  wide  the  portals  back  ? 
Did  spectral  Death  precede  the  mourner's  track  ? 
Among  the  mossy  tablets  lettered  old, 
Where  life's  brief  history  is  quaintly  told, 
The  mute  procession  winds ;  the  bearers  pause  : 
A  hand  has  ope'd  the  Book  of  Love  and  Laws, 
And  heads  uncovered  list  with  solemn  trust ; 
"All  flesh  is  grass,"  anrt  "  dust  returns  to  dust," 
Pronounced  by  reverend  lips  ;  the  service  close 
Precedes  the  sound  that  every  mourner  knows  : 
Dull  rattling  clods  upon  the  coffin  spread, 
And  rising  winds  moan  sadder  for  the  dead. 

Glen  Cottage  fair !   no  more  thy  vine-clad  walls 

Shall  list  the  voice  of  incense-breathing  prayer, 
No  smiling  cherub  carols  in  thy  halls, 

Sweet  songs  that  vibrate  on  the  evening  air. 
Not  doomed  alone  in  grief  the  world  to  roam — 

The  lovely  orphan-girl,  so  sad  and  lone, 
No  more  returns  to  her  deserted  home. 

The  voice  of  love  she  hears  in  kindly  tone; 
The  Savior  grants  the  dying  mother's  prayer, 

His  pitying  smile  and  gracious  love  bestows, 


122  EPIC  POEM. 

The  village  pastor  with  a  parent's  care, 

Adopts  the  orphan  child  and  soothes  her  woes. 

As  calm  as  resting  seas  that  stretch  away 

Beyond  the  visual  organ's  straining  sight, 
In  strength  and  middle  age  was  Samuel  Ray, 

Content  to  shine  in  heaven's  most  placid  light : 
Kind  impulse,  cherished  fruitfully  and  long 

Had  made  his  being  radiant  as  gleams 
The  ocean's  breast  untouched  by  cloud  or  storm, 

Or  bright  as  spray-diffusive  summer  streams ! 

A  warm  domestic  circle  closes  round 

The  pensive  maiden — a  protecting  screen  ; 
Fraternal  bliss,  on  Earth  so  rarely  found ! 

Connubial  love  unblasted,  pure,  serene. 
Two  sisters,  and  one  brother's  happy  face. 

Compose  the  pastor's  treasures,  with  a  wife 
In  whom  maternal  and  religious  grace 

Combine  with  gentleness  to  charm  his  life ; 
Fair  Helen,  Theodora  and  Irene, 

And  Robert,  with  the  true  emprise  of  youth. 
Comprise  a  lovely  group :  'tis  such  a  scene 

No  hand  of  art  can  reproduce  its  truth ! 

The  first  depending,  sweet,  infantile  gem 

Of  those  two  virtuous  lives,  by  love  inwrought, 
Was  "  Dora,"  gift  of  God  !  a  diadem 

For  hopes  parental,  in  maturing  thought. 
Just  twenty-one  !  As  soft  as  on  a  rose 

The  dews  of  morning  fall — each  one  a  pearl, 
The  vestal  charms  her  opening  years  disclose 

Are  jewels  for  the  kind  unselfish  girl. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  123 

In  sweet  sincerity — by  acts  expressed, 

Warm,  clasping  arms,  and  ever  gentle  air, 

Irene,  a  "  sister  "  stands  in  love  confessed — 
Congenial  sister  of  the  wavy  hair ! 

Fair  Helen !  beautiful  as  Sparta's  queen, 

Whom  Trojan  Paris,  with  delusive  will, 
Allured  from  Menelaus  with  princely  mien, 

While  poor  ^-Enone  wept  on  Asia's  hill  I 
Her  eyes  were  changeful  in  their  dreamy  hue, 

Which  in  her  piquant  play  of  smile  or  word 
Flashed  dark,  were  hazel-brown,  or  azure-blue, 

Or,  melting  when  her  tones  of  song  were  heard. 
A  fleecy  cloudlet  seemed  her  silken  hair. 

Possessed  through  aid  of  some  enchanter's  art ; 
Its  floating  meshes  kissed  by  sunbeams,  were 

Entanglements  delightful  round  the  heart ! 
And,  like  the  skies  of  April,  when  suffused 

With  tears  of  transient  grief,  and  mute  her  tone, 
Her  brow  by  frowns  o'ercast,  her  smiles  unused, 

One  moment  clouded,  and  the  spell  was  gone  ! 
Her  heart  was  all  affection  if  combined 

Those  sweet  approvals  flattery  interweaves ; 
Of  mediocral  grade,  her  lively  mind 

Shone  bright  as  sunbeams  play  among  the  leaves. 
'I'he  captive,  of  anticij^ations  bright. 

On  which  her  glowing  fancies  often  fed. 
She  ill  could  bear  their  shading  into  night ; 

Nor  calmly  walk  where  disappointment  led  : 
Her  pure  and  gentle  soul's  perceptive  sense 

Recoiled,  mimosa-like,  from  all  deceit ; 
For  all  her  faults  her  frankness  was  defense, 

And  Helen's  changeful  mood  was  mostly  sweet. 


124  EPIC  POEM. 

Sixteen  bright  summers  told  her  virgin  years, 

They  most  within  her  childhood's  precincts  spent, 

Where  school-day  intercourse  which  long  endears, 
Thus  far  had  made  her  opening  life  content. 

And  now  we  scan  the  gladsome  brother  boy, 

Their  Robert  dear  in  youth's  fair  charms  arrayed. 
Whose  cheery  voice  would  always  waken  joy, 

Whose  smiles  were  sunbeams  wheresoe'er  they  played ! 
He  with  this  band  of  loving  sisters,  form 

A  bright  connecting  link,  which  to  dissever 
Would  leave  sad  traces  of  a  breaking  storm 

Around  their  home's  rich  shrine  of  love  forever  ! 
O  see  him  bounding  gay  o'er  fence  and  field. 

With  buoyant  countenance  for  some  intent ! 
He  stops  at  times  a  severed  twig  to  wield 

'Till  on  the  air  its  wasted  force  is  spent : 
Before  him  frolics  back  and  forth  his  dog. 

He  disappears  in  dells  that  cross  his  path. 
His  steps  still  urging  toward  a  distant  bog 

Where  huge  old  trunks  have  felt  the  lightning's  scathe: 
Ah  !  what  impel's  the  careless  creature's  course  ? 

The  sequel  shows  in  day's  declining  hours — 
Affection  lent  his  sanguine  nature  force, 

Presenting  to  his  sisters  knots  of  flowers ! 

Behold  bright  glimpses  of  a  happy  home  ! 

Nor  grieve  that  earth  is  doomed  to  every  ill, 
But  let  thy  constant  faith  in  God  e'er  come. 

Each  pressing  doubt  perverted  acts  instil. 
Misanthropist !  survey  the  good  that  flows 

From  weak  humanity,  by  sin  beguiled. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  125 

Nor  trample  on  one  hopeful  flower  that  grows 

Within  the  heart  of  e'en  the  basest  child  ! 
For  when  the  sun  of  love  its  rays  imparts, 

The  weakest  impulse  reaching  after  truth 
May  fill  with  future  raptures,  waiting  hearts, 

Though  seared  as  by  a  winter's  frost,  forsooth  ! 
An  isolated  mount  on  whose  bald  head 

Far  scintillating  stars  benignly  gaze, 
Whose  huge  foundations  were  by  Cyclops  laid 

As  stern  memorials  of  mystic  days 
Are  monuments  of  age  no  more  secure 

From  Boreas  or  the  flashing  bolts  of  Jove 
Than  is  the  soul  which  trusting  can  endure 

The  storm  of  passion  wild,  when  armed  with  love ! 

Now  glowing  suns  excite  the  fruitful  soil, 

The  farmer  wields  again  the  spade  and  plow ; 
Merchant  and  artisan  renew  their  toil — 

See !  Plenty's  smiles  are  o'er  the  valley  now  ! 
Mild  Housatonic  flows;  as  when  of  yore 

The  war-plumed  Indian  swam  its  lucent  tide ; 
Its  surface  trembling,  glistening  o'er  and  o'er, 

As  'midst  its  flow  the  forest  shadows  glide. 

From  the  deserted  cot  across  the  stile. 

Beyond  the  village  hum,  along  the  brook, 
Irene's  adopted  home  was  scarce  a  mile, 

And  there  one  summer  morn  her  path  she  took. 
One  mute  companion  in  her  lonely  way. 

The  faithful  dog,  whose  speaking  face  surveyed 
With  instinct  true  and  sympathetic  play. 

The  tearful  features  of  the  gentle  maid ; 


126  EPIC  POEM. 

Where  thriving  shrubs  their  tangled  branches  grew  . 

Around  her  once  well-pruned,  frequented  bower, 
Thoughtful,  her  measured  footsteps  slowly  drew ; 

For  memory  awoke  with  saddening  power. 
Withdrawing  from  her  breast  a  treasured  page, 

She  pressed  some  wild,  resisting  foliage  near 
To  form  a  couch  for  rest,  there  to  engage 

A  gentle,  quiet  hour  with  memories  dear. 
One  gloomy  year  had  passed  since  there  she  met 

Her  plighted  Oscar's  hope-inspired  embrace ; 
One  only  message  of  his  love  had  yet 

Come  safely  o'er  the  sea;  no  other  trace 
Of  tidings  from  the  distant  island  shore ! 

The  long,  cold  silence  weighed  with  crushing  art; 
Alas !  she  might  behold  his  face  no  more — 

So  hope  deferred  was  closing  round  her  heart. 
O,  when  will  love  its  early  hopes  resign, 

Or  woman's  fragile  nature  cease  to  weave 
Illumined  dreams  with  beauties  that  define 

And  mingle  images  which  oft  deceive  ! 

Behold,  a  noble  drama  of  this  age  ! 

The  last  brave  act  will  soon  forever  close. 
Whose  stormy  scenes  and  glittering  icy  stage 

Were  laid  amid  the  gloom  of  Arctic  snows ; 
Aurora  Borealis  arched  the  dome. 

And  sent  its  painted  changing  lustres  down 
To  gild  the  regions  of  the  North-wind's  home 

Where  Winter  never  doffs  his  diamond  crown ! 
These  histrionic  scenes  were  long  deferred — 

Science  her  fadeless  banner  high  unfurled ; 
When  noble.  Franklin's  funeral  knell  was  heard, 

She  sent  applauding  echoes  through  the  world  ! 


MISSION   BRIDE.  127 

No  gold  weighed  down  the  balance,  when  his  fate 

Was  undetermined  in  the  lapse  of  years  ; 
For  Lady  Franklin,  rich  in  love's  estate. 

Still  hoped  and  sought,  through  all  her  gloomy  fears. 
A  woman  true — her  tireless  efforts  prove 

A  spectacle  for  every  age,  sublime, 
The  eternal  constancy  of  holy  love 

That  braves  the  icebergs  and  the  seas  of  time! 

While  carol  sweet  a  choir  of  tuneful  birds. 

And  sings  the  streamlet  on  its  course  so  free ! 
As  oft  before,  the  maiden  cons  the  words 

Her  lover  penned  across  the  billowy  sea : 
Then  thoughts  of  him  to  keener  sense  awake, 

Mingled  with  visions  of  her  youthful  grief. 
Till  culminating  sorrows  form  and  break 

In  accents  audible  and  murmurs  brief: 
"  My  father ! — mother ! — Oscar — Oscar,  dear ! 

Oh  why,  my  God,  permit  me  thus  to  live! 
I  Mw/A/ submit;  thy  dealings  seem  severe, 

But  give  me  reconcilement.  Father!  give: 
Tliough  I  am  weak,  I  can,  with  Heaven's  aid, 

Employ  my  energies  for  life's  true  end ; 
Yet  sorrow's  shades  are  'gainst  my  hopes  arrayed ; 

Relieve  me — Thou,  the  orphan's  constant  Friend! 
O  grant  me,  Lord,  upon  the  swaying  flood 

That  oft  engulfs  the  barks  of  human  strife, 
A  calm  reliance,  and  a  i)Ower  for  good 

Which  may  invoke  the  stars  of  higher  life; 
A  prosperous  sail,  my  zenith  clear  and  bright, 

The  i)olar  star  of  Truth  my  faithful  guide, 
A  hajjpy  haven  where  in  death's  cold  night 


128  EPIC  POEM. 

Immortal  anchorage  I  may  abide! 
Great  Father !  still  I  ask  thy  love  and  power 

To  make  my  life  more  useful  in  its  sphere ; 
To  shield  my  faith  in  every  threatening  hour. 

And  make  my  hopes  of  life  eternal  clear !  " 

Her  trembling  lips  grew  calm ;  a  holy  sense 

Of  God's  protecting  and  Almighty  will 
Became  her  tender  spirit's  firm  defense, 

And  promised  strength  for  every  future  ill. 
Her  steps  then  wended  toward  the  cot  in  view; 

Once  more  she  does  the  lonely  lintel  cross ; 
The  past — its  varied  pictures  there  renew ; 

Her  tears  are  dropped  upon  the  well-curb's  moss. 
Brave  heart !     Her  recollections  rose  like  forms 

Of  supernatural  birth  ui  silent  dreams ; 
As  numerous  as  the  summer  bee-hive  swarms, 

As  spray-gems  scatter  over  cascade  streams  ! 

She  walks  the  garden  path ;  the  broken  gate 

No  more  a  barrier,  its  form  conceals 
'Neath  wild  exuberance — a  weedy  state : 

The  bushy  plat  still  here  and  there  reveals 
The  serrate  leaflets  of  the  damask  rose. 

Craving  of  unpruned  nature  its  consent 
A  few  more  buds  and  blossoms  to  disclose, 

Though  on  the  "  desert  air  "  its  sweets  be  spent. 
She  lifts  the  rusted  latchet ;  slowly  through 

The  dusky  entry  walks  and  meets  chill  airs 
Impregnated  with  damps  and  vapors  blue ; 

Each  room  a  dim  and  strange  festooning  wears, 
Not  made  of  Gobelin  fabric  rare  and  bright, 


MISSION  BRIDE.  129 

But  hung  as  if  in  mockery  of  taste 
With  cobwebs  woven  in  the  reahn  of  night, 

By  cunning  insects,  and  in  secret  traced: 
She  sounds  her  parents'  names  in  failing  tones, 

The  lonely  walls  respond  in  echoes  drear ; 
The  spirit  of  the  blackened  chimney  moans. 

Producing  feelings  much  allied  to  fear : 
So  back  she  passes  with  one  long  farewell, 

Resolving  ne'er  again  alone  to  tread 
Those  precincts  shadowed  by  a  brooding  spell, 

By  mute  memorials  of  the  sainted  dead  ! 

The  sun  descending  faded  from  the  sight 

Behind  suspended  draperies  of  cloud  ; 
Birds  sought  their  coverts  for  the  coming  night, 

And  quiet  grew  within  its  mystic  shroud. 
As  one  by  one  the  trembling  stars  appear 

To  crown  with  gems  th'  aerial  dome's  expanse; 
The  world  grows  calm,  and  heaven  seems  more  near, 

And  Nature  sleeps  to  wait  Aurora's  glance. 

This  hour  the  pensive  maid  was  welcomed  home 

By  anxious  watchers  in  the  portals  green  : 
"  Dear  Irene!  we're  so  glad — io  glad!  you've  come  ; 

Where  have  the  truant's  wandering  footsteps  been  ?  " 
So  spake  fair  H^len  :  "  Father  has  a  guest — 

A  student  seeking  rest  an  1  ouatry  air  ; 
We  wonder  who  will  suit  his  fancy  best — 

It  will  be  you,  Irene,  I  do  declare  ! 
He's  out  with  father  now,  bill  his  return 

WjU  doom  his  heart  to  long  imprisonment. 

9 


I30  EPIC  POEM. 

Sweet  sister !  why,  those  tell-tale  blushes  burn  ! 
Discard  your  frowns ;  I  spoke  from  kind  intent. 

0  here  they  come.     Do,  sis ;  do  look  more  gay ! 
Presented  to  our  temporary  beau, 

I'm  sure  before  another  June  or  May 
We  shall  not  call  him  Mr.  So  and  So, 

But  '  Mortimer,'  or  '  James  ' — our  brother  kind — 
The  spouse  of  Theodora,  or  Irene. 

1  do  not  think  him  suited  to  my  mind ; 

He  seems  too  thought-abstracted,  too  serene .' " 
"Mr.  Mortimer!  allow  me  to  present 

My  dear  adopted  child  :  Irene,  ottr  frie?id, 
Who  with  us  will  remain  till  summer's  spent; 

We  hope  our  happy  sympathies  may  blend." 
He  ceased.    In  social  converse  passed  the  hours  ; 

Each  sister  sang  their  glad  or  plaintive  songs; 
Through  every  open  casement,  from  the  flowers 

Crept  fragrance  richer  than  to  Day  belongs. 
Then  came  the  sacred  hour  of  evening  prayer ; 

Each  filial  heart  united  with  the  sire, 
And  trembling  up  to  heaven  on  the  air 

Arose  each  meek  and  penitent  desire : 
Then  kind  good  nights  in  gentle  accents  said, 

Each  wearied  one  retires  in  peace  to  rest ; 
For  no  upbraiding  conscience,  with  its  dread 

Of  justice,  lived  among  those  inmates  blest. 


Soon  in  the  realm  of  Moi'pheus,  youth  and  age 
Are  wandering,  more  charmed  with  gentle  dreams 

Than  brightest  wakeful  fancies  e'er  engage. 

Than  plays  the  mind  with  Day's  more  real  themes. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  131 

Than  all  the  rest,  sinks  soonest  to  repose 

Our  pensive  heroine,  awearied  most, 
And,  all  unconscious  how  the  moonlight  glows, 

She  wanders  on  a  dark  and  unknown  coast : 
The  roar  of  many  swelhng  waves  combined 

Sends  mournful  music  o'er  the  distant  leas ; 
Afar  across  the  waters  lone,  defined, 

A  meteor — a  glimmering  light  she  sees ! 
It  sinks,  anon  it  rises  from  the  tide; 

Each  time  it  seems  more  near,  more  brightly  shines ; 
Its  mystic  gleams  disclose  the  ocean  wide, 

But  far  before,  no  pebbly  shore  defines  ! 
She  stands  transfixed,  her  streaming  eyes  intent, 

And  knows  nor  what,  nor  why,  the  potent  charm  : 
Now  o'er  the  waves,  the  skies  are  darker  bent — 

A  strengthening  breeze  is  herald  for  a  storm : 
Along  the  lea,  among  the  pine-boughs  dark, 

A  louder  wail  is  sounding  o'er  and  o'er. 
More  often  disappears  the  meteor's  spark, 

The  rising  tide  is  sweeping  up  the  shore : 
Hoarse  muttering  thunders  break  and  roll  away ; 

Bold,  angry  Tritons  rise  in  self  defense, 
But  soon  allied,  they  with  the  waters  play  1 

Neptune's  commands  betray  his  ire  intense ! 
'Tis  strange  no  fears  assail  her  courage  there ; 

Still  firm  she  stands  and  all  the  storm  defies, 
Again  beholds  the  light  to  leeward  bear; 

It  comes  anear — it  rises  to  the  skies  ! 
Then  fell  the  curtains  of  the  land  of  sleep — 

The  maiden  opes  her  wondering  eyes  to  view 
The  calm  and  starry  night — almost  to  weep 

For  visions  waking  sense  would  not  renew. 


132  EPIC  POEM. 

The  outer  world  was  silent — midnight  reigned, 

And  through  her  windows  all  unshaded  fell 
A  flood  of  silver  bloom  ;  the  moon  sustained  ; 

The  hills  were  guarding  every  vale  and  dell ! 
Soft  slumbers  soon  again  her  eyelids  close 

And  more  profound,  all  consciousness  was  lost, 
'Till  o'er  the  Eastern  heights  were  sunny  glows, 

And  shades  withdrew  as  Day  the  valley  crossed. 
Then  first  her  waking  thought  ascends  above ; 

Refreshed,  a  beaming  hue  suffused  her  cheek; 
Another  morn  of  life  began  in  love, 

To  end  m  resignation  holy,  meek. 

Imbued  with  Christian  love,  and  patriot  zeal, 

James  Mortimer,  a  youth  possessed  of  thought, 
Of  mind  mature  as  all  his  acts  reveal. 

For  generous  deeds  his  soul  intensely  \yrought. 
Life  called  his  mind  her  purposes  to  scan — 

For  earnest  life  his  every  impulse  swelled ; 
He  lived  for  God  and  blessed  his  fellow-man, 

While  sinful  impulse  in  his  soul  was  quelled. 
His  form  was  cast  in  nature's  pleasing  mould, 

His  genial  presence  shed  its  warming  rays ; 
No  chiseled  piety,  as  marble  cold, 

Embound  his  sphere  in  gloomy,  chilling  haze. 
Rich  chesnut  hair  in  waves  his  brow  adorns, 

His  eyes,  in  childhood  blue,  are  hazel-dark, 
And  brilliant  as  the  summer's  cloudless  morns, 

They  mirror  forth  a  deep  Promethean  spark. 
Which,  sometimes  to  a  loving  glance  gives  place, 

Increasing  still  the  intellectual  fire 
And  radiating  all  his  generous  face 


MISSION  BRIDE.  133 

With  smiles  that  make  the  shades  of  gloom  retire. 
Controlled  by  heavenly  love,  in  early  youth 

Encouraged  by  a  mother's  hopeful  prayer, 
Resolved  to  preach  the  everlasting  truth, 

Religion  was  his  life — his  vital  air ! 
To  this  great  theme  his  soul  forever  true, 

It  gave  his  energies  unbiased  scope ; 
One  noble  purpose — kept  in  constant  view — 

To  give  the  untauglit  Indian  faith  and  hope! 
All  other  plans  to  this  subservient. 

He  bowed  in  reverence  at  Duty's  shrine  ; 
He  saw  the  vengeful  Indian  repent. 

The  Sun  of  Righteousness  around  him  shine ! 
His  soul  responded  to  the  genial  flow 

Of  life  refined,  of  life's  endearments  sweet ; 
The  starry  coronals  that  nightly  glow. 

The  mountain  scene  with  grandeur  wild  replete. 
The  valley  scenery,  the  river's  roll, 

The  flowers  that  smile  beneath  the  sunbeam's  kiss, 
Found  warm  response  within  his  glowing  soul. 

Which  thrilled  in  its  own  ecstacy  of  bliss  ! 

Each  tranquil  summer  day  moved  gently  on. 

The  social  circle  grew  more  dear  the  while; 
Long  ere  the  lovely  August  moon  was  gone 

Did  James  depend  too  much  on  Irene's  smile! 
No  harsh  reproofs  bestowed  by  either  tongue, 

Unmindful  of  the  world's  corroding  strife, 
They  joined  the  pleasant  jjastimes  of  the  young — 

Mild  Samuel  Ray  and  Martha  his  good  wife. 
With  books  and  flowers  pure  'i'heodora  charmed, 

Irene  was  pensive,  gentle,  ever  kind; 


134  EPIC  POEM. 

With  wit  and  song  gay  Helen's  art  disarmed 

All  threatening  shades  that  might  o'ercast  the  mind 
Bright  Robert  was  a  glad  and  witching  spell ; 

He  laughed  exultant  as  he  proudly  told 
Of  strange  exploit  in  thicket,  stream  or  dell, 

When  chasing  fox  or  squirrel  long  and  bold! 
Intuitive,  Irene  began  to  feel 

The  glance  of  Mortimer's  admiring  eyes  ; 
It  told  of  love,  as  prisms  will  reveal 

The  rainbow  wreath  that  in  one  sunbeam  lies  ! 
Could  she  repulse  the  light,  and  be  to  him 

A  shadowed  heart  ? — She  was  to  Oscar  true. 
But  his  dear  love  appeared  so  far,  and  dim, 

And  none  around  her  cherished  secret  knew  ! 

One  evening  wandering  in  the  river  vale — 

Irene  and  Mortimer — they  paused  to  rest 
Beneath  an  elm,  whose  foliage  was  pale 

With  silver  rained  from  Luna's  cloudless  crest ; 
"  My  path  is  soon  to  wind  afar  from  thine — 

Ere  long  I  hasten  hence  by  duty's  call  ; 
Allow  me,  dear — dear  girl  to  call  thee  mine. 

Before  the  shades  of  separation  fall ! 
Irene  !  respond — the  chalice  of  ray  life 

Replenish  with  thy  love  so  sweet  and  pure ! 
Oh,  wilt  thou  be  a  missionary's  wife  ? 

Speak,  dearest !  speak,  and  my  fond  hopes  ensure ! 
My  destiny  to  dwell  from  friends  apart, 

No  life  of  splendid  ease  can  I  afford  ; 
But  is  not  thy  pure  consecrated  heart 

Desirous  thus  to  work  and  serve  the  Lord  ? 
Far,  far  away,  near  Mississippi's  flood. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  135 

I  go  ere  long  through  His  supporting  grace  ; 
Within  the  old,  uncultured,  haunted  wood, 
To  teach  the  yet  untutored  savage  race ! 

0  noble  thought !     The  mists  may  be  dispelled 
That  draped  the  Indian  mind  in  tiines  grown  old, 

Which  have  a  stern  and  dark  dominion  held 

While  Superstition  kept  the  mental  fold ! 
A  glorious  view — emancipated  mind  ! 

A  soul  wherein  a  pure  religion  burns; 
Humanity,  and  Heaven's  high  love  combined  ! 

Toward  such  an  end  my  life  submissive  turns ; 
So  tell  me,  love — Irene — wilt  thou  be  mine  ? 

A  lonely  missionary's  willing  bride  ! 

1  love  thee,  and  my  love  shall  always  shine. 
Though  parted  be  our  path,  forever,  wide  !" 

He  ceased :   In  gentle  accents  she  began  : 

"  Dear  sir,  your  preference  produces  pain  ; 
A  noble  friend,  I  prize  you,  but  the  plan 

Of  life  discerned  by  me  does  not  contain 
A  union  with  thy  name  and  earnest  lite. 

Save  pleasant  memories  of  moments  flown  ; 
I  cannot,  sir,  become  your  loyal  wife. 

Another. claims  my  hand,  my  heart  his  own." 

"Am  I  mistaken?  Can  it  be,  Irene? 

How  has  my  captive  love  been  thus  misled  ? 
No  token  given  me  in  thy  passive  mien. 

Of  promise,  other  happier  love  to  wed  ? 
I  blame  thee  not,  but  of  tliat  generous  pain 

In  future  years,  I'll  tiiink — sweet  care — thine  own! 
My  sacrificial  cup  in  patience  drain. 

My  mission  path  pursue,  alone — alone  ! 


136  EPIC  POEM. 

Another  life  shall  help  me  realise 

That  mystic  union  of  congenial  hearts; 
I'll  never  faint,  but  work  to  win  the  prize 

Of  love  a  future  realm  of  bliss  imparts  ; 
The  savage  ire  shall  see  me  yet  unquailed, 

His  dark  rebuff  shall  never  dim  my  sight ; 
My  Saviour's  strength,  whene'er  by  sin  assailed, 

Shall  poise  my  soul  above  the  demon's  night! 
Farewell,  sweet  girl !  betore  the  blush  of  dawn, 

Before  Apollo's  smile  shall  gild  the  dew, 
And  ere  thy  slippered  feet  shall  press  the  lawn, 

I  leave  this  mansion  and  its  inmates  true! 
Farewell,  Irene!  it  may  not  be  forever! 

But,  dearest,  'twill — it  must  be  said  ior years — 
Deep  sinks  the  arrow  from  the  Indian's  quiver — 

Deep  in  my  soul  has  sunk  thy  pitying  tears  ! 
God  bless  thee,  dearest !     Love's  pure  offering, 

The  kind  impulses  of  a  heart  like  thine 
Can  never  back  upon  its  giver  fling  : 
A  dia77i07id,  though  concealed,  forgets  not  how  to  shine  / ' 

"  Hail,  mystic  Night !     Time's  reaching  strand 
Bounds  iar  away  thy  shadowy  land, 
Where  all  the  Future's  pregnant  days 
Sleep,  warmed  with  Hope's  half  latent  rays ! 

Float  on  unseen,  ye  soundless  airs. 
While  Night  her  sable  drapery  wears  ; 
Vibrate  from  mountain  height  to  dell, 
And  cradle  still  the  fancy's  spell ! 

Ye  rivulets,  in  soft  emprise. 

While  now  ye  meet  from  Dian's  eyes 


MISSION  BRIDE.  137 

A  tide  of  lustres  dreaming  down, 
Through  quiet  shades  move  stiller  on  ! 

While  Nature's  lieart  is  mute  like  death, 
Ye  leafy  branches,  wake  no  breath. 
Nor  let  your  birdling  brood  prolong 
Aloud  one  dreamy  note  of  song! 

Ye  living  forms,  in  slumbers  play, 
Oblivious  breathe  the  hours  away  ; 
Like  ice-concealed,  still-moving  streams, 
Sleep  through  your  unremembered  dreams! 

Hail,  mystic  Night !     Tiiy  soothing  care, 
Thy  gentle  shades,  what  soul  would  spare? 
Congenial  with  my  pensive  moods 
Are  thy  subduing  solitudes  !  " 

Thus  Mortimer  at  midnight  mused,  alone 

Before  his  casement,  while  the  glimmering  stars 
Illumed  the  darkened  pathway  of  the  moon. 

Shut  in  by  the  horizon's  dusky  bars. 
Now  leave  him  ;  from  Glendale  he  wends  his  way; 

'Tis  sad,  with  tender  recollections  fraught, 
But  pure  Religion's  sweet,  consoling  ray 

Pervades  the  gloom  by  disa[jpointment  wrought. 

A  summer  moon  had  raised  her  shining  head 
Above  the  forest,  by  bright  Phoebus  led  ; 
A  thousand  locusts  beat  their  winglets  thin, 
And  chirping  crickets  mingled  in  the  din  ; 
While  nameless  insects  symphonies  prolong. 
And  katydids  unite  their  constant  song. 


138  EPIC  POEM. 

Afar  the  woodlands  trill  the  tree-toad's  notes, 

And  "  Whip-poor-will"  o'er  marsh  and  meadow  floats; 

But  to  return — a  night  so  musical 

Shed  peace  on  all  the  dwellers  of  the  vale, 

And  though  each  heart,  mayhap,  some  grief  concealed, 

Few  shadows  of  the  face  the  truth  revealed. 

"  Irene  !  dreaming  here  alone ! 

I  have  sought  you,  round  and  round ; 
I've  a  letter  for  your  eye — 
Is  it  worth  a  pin  or  pound  ? 

♦ 

Kiss  me — that  'tis  worth  I  know  ! 

Came  it  o'er  the  ocean  far. 
As  the  superscriptions  show  ? 

Irene,  sis,  how  strange  you  are ! 

Never  tell  us  aught  about 

Lover  true  across  the  sea ; 
Of  a  gallant  knight  away. 

Seeking  deeds  of  chivalry  !  " 

Thus  gamboled  Helen ;  but  a  heart  unstrung. 
Unburdened  hitherto,  breaks  forth  to  weep ; 

Upon  her  happy  sister's  breast  she  flung 

Sorrows  which  then  no  longer  seemed  to  sleep. 

A  tempest  in  the  soul !     No  rising  storm 

Of  subtle  forces  and  material  thmgs. 
When  all  their  latent  power  combine  to  form 

A  warring  compact  with  their  hoary  kings, 


MISSION  BRIDE.  i39 

Creates  a  state  so  unexplained  as  this ; 

When  man,  the  mystery,  no  more  controls 
The  secret  stairway  to  the  halls  of  bliss. 

Or  portals  to  the  sorrows  of  the  soul ! 

"  O  sister,  dear !  I  fear  some  dreadful  ill ! 

The  superscription  is  not  his  1  love ; 
Go  bring  a  light— do,  Helen,  if  you  will!  " 

The  maiden  went,  as  light  as  cloudlets  move. 

The  seal  was  broken,  and  the  page  outspread  ; 

She  quivered  o'er  each  fearful  coming  word  ; 
They  told  a  woful  tale — "  My  Oscar  dead !  " 

The  paper  falls,  her  failing  tones  unheard. 

They  bore  her  to  a  couch  ;  around  her  pressed 
Each  one,  to  learn  the  truth  almost  afraid : 

Like  wounded  dove,  by  tender  hearts  caressed. 
She  seemed  beneath  her  sorrow's  closing  shade. 

Contented  in  the  paths  the  patriarchs  trod. 

His  daily  lite  religion's  vital  air ; 
The  pitying  sire,  the  humble  man  of  God, 

Retired  meanwhile  for  sui)|jlicating  i)rayer. 

Again  he  sought  the  couch  of  mental  pain, 
Where  pallid,  senseless,  lies  their  dear  Irene  ; 

The  sisters  from  their  sobs  can  scarce  refrain, 
And  Robert  weeps  behind  the  curtain  screen. 

"  My  children  !  calm  these  fears — not  so  despair; 

Irene  will  rise  above  this  sudden  grief: 
We'll  watch  the  orphan  with  more  loving  care  ; 

Her  suffering,  through  the  Lord  is  only  brief. 


I40  EPIC  POEM. 

The  dear,  unfortunate,  devoted  child 

Has  kept  a  secret,  ah !  too  long,  too  well ; 

I'll  read  the  page."     He  then  withdrew  awhile 
And  conned  the  letter  while  his  tear-drops  fell. 

The  aged  laird  and  ruler  of  Glenwayn, 

A  proud  but  gentle  Scot,  had  thus  addressed 

His  brother's  child,  betrothed  to  Oscar,  Thane 
Of  all  his  sire's  domains  in  right  possessed. 

*'  Dear  daughter,  ofifspring  of  our  sacred  land  ! 
Though  born  in  foreign  clime,  we  call  thee  ours ; 
*    I  fain  would  trace  for  thee  a  brighter  tale — 
Heaven  give  thee  strength  :  A  blow  divine 
Has  well  nigh  laid  my  trembling  form  in  dust ! 
My  boy!  my  noble  boy,  in  manhood  clothed, 
I  felt  the  prop  of  my  declining  years  : 
I  looked  with  joy  to  that  glad  hour  when  he 
Should  bring  to  Scotia's  vales  a  heart  refined 
By  love  and  truth — a  scion  of  our  stock. 
Alas,  it  ne'er  can  be !   my  fondest  hopes 
Are  cradled  in  the  dust.     My  Oscar  lives 
No  more  !     Upon  his  brow  of  thought  death  has 
Its  signet  set ;  his  pulse  has  ceased  to  shake 
The  quivering  chords  of  Nature's  harp,  to  thrill 
His  manly  frame ! 

O  God  !  Is  this  thy  will, 
That  I  should  feel  such  loneliness  of  death  ! 
Should  weep  in  furrowed  age  till  tears  like  ice-drops 
Hang  upon  my  cheeks.?     Oscar!     My  son! 
I  would  lay  down  this  worthless  life  to  bring 
Thee  back  to  earth  ! — that  thine  might  fill 


MISSION  BRIDE.  141 

Another's  cup  of  joy! 

O  God  !  heal  up 
The  breach  in  my  lone  heart — by  thy  pure  self! 
Do  thou  increase  my  trembling  love  for  thee ! 
Show  me,  through  Faith's  entrancing  glass,  the  land 
Which  Oscar  treads,  and  leave  upon  my  heart 
The  sweet  assurance  of  that  hope  which  dried 
The  widow's  tears ! 

Dear  girl !  more  truly  dear 
For  that  sweet  love  thou  bearest  my  noble  boy, 
Listen,  while  I  recount  thy  Oscar's  fate: 
Commissioned  for  his  king,  the  royal  George, 
To  bear  dispatthes  to  a  Highland  laird, 
He  traced  the  strath  that  leads  to  Argyle's  hills 
With  manly  step  fearless  and  strong,  when  lo ! 
Loch  Lomond,  darkened  as  by  sudden  night, 
Vailed  its  bright  sheen  as  though  afraid  to  meet 
The  frowning  face  of  the  approaching  storm. 
The  wind-god  hushed  to  silence  every  breeze ; 
Anon  the  sturdy  pines  upon  the  hill  tops  shook 
And  quivered  in  the  stillness,  surging  clouds 
Were  darkly  gathered  o'er  the  vale,  a  blast, 
A  scathing,  sheeting  flame  sweeps  o'er  the  lake, 
The  hills,  illuming  all  the  country  round  I 
Amid  this  awful  scene  my  Oscar  fell 
A  blackened  corse. 

We  laid  him  down  to  rest 
Within  his  own  domain  :   Narcissus  blooms, 
And  pale  low  asphodels  in  spring  may  smile, 
As  gowans  nature  planted,  blossom  round 
His  grave,  and  willows  o'er  it  weep. 

My  child! 


142  EPIC  POEM. 

I  bid  thee  now  farewell,  and  trust  thy  life, 
Thy  young  and  loving  heart,  thy  tender  grief, 
To  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well." 


Recovering  slowly  from  a  bed  of  pain, 

Awakened  from  the  fever's  burning  grasp, 
Irene  looked  on  the  smiling  world  again, 

And  caught  the  autumn  flow'rets  in  her  clasp. 
A  thoughtful  child,  e'en  from  her  infant  days. 

Losing  so  early  all  she  held  most  dear; 
When  wedded  love  withheld  its  promised  rays, 

It  left  her  saddened  being  strong  and  clear; 
And  though  the  lingering  months  their  shadows  cast, 

And  moments  came  when  life  had  little  charm ; 
She  lived  in  patience  till  the  year  Avas  past. 

Till  shone  anew  the  vernal  sunbeams  warm. 

The  gentle  orphan  led  a  pensive  life, 

A  life  where  duty's  task  became  a  rule  ; 
She  now  begins  a  teacher's  arduous  strife 

And  finds  her  sphere  within  the  village  school : 
Each  dewy  morn  her  cheerful  footsteps  sought 

An  humble  temple  reared  among  the  hills. 
Directing  hour  by  hour  increasing  thought — 

As  days  roll  by  the  truth  its  life  instills. 
"  Serener  than  a  star  on  Twilight's  breast," 

Her  placid  soul,  by  sorrow  purified. 
Reflected  in  its  deep  expansive  rest 

A  chastened  love,  to  Heaven's  own  peace  allied. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  143 

The  inward  record  of  one  human  breast 

On  which  the  staring  world  may  never  gaze, 
Sometimes  convulsed,  in  sacred  peace  may  rest 

While  outward  storms  wild  tumults  round  it  raise  ! 
So  lived  Irene,  and  calmly  saw  her  youth 

Advance  in  shaded  and  subduing  light 
To  meet  the  vigor  of  maturing  truth, 

As  morning  rays  accept  the  noonday  bright; 
Thus  flowers  give  fragrance  sweeter  in  the  shade 

Which  on  the  evening  breezes  borne  away, 
Inspire  the  distant  dell,  or  piney  glade. 

As  Memory's  sweetness  charms  our  pensive  way. 

A  summer  day  was  near  its  hushing  close, 

A  fleecy  panoply  half  vailed  the  West ; 
Soft  zephyrs  whispered  to  the  sleeping  rose, 

And  fanned  the  fainting  lily's  snowy  crest : 
The  clouds  were  painted  with  a  hundred  dyes ; 

Some  caught  the  fiery  sunset's  lingering  flame, 
And  some,  the  silver  of  the  noonday  skies, 

Commingling  sapphires  of  the  daylight's  wane  ! 

While  slowly  fell  her  steps  along  the  plain, 
Released  from  toil  and  mentally  at  rest. 

Beauty  and  Nature  in  their  charming  train 
Received  responses  from  the  teacher's  breast. 

'Twas  here  among  New  England's  vales 
Where  soft  descend  the  mountain  gales, 
Where  pathways  wind  green  plots  around, 
And  dells  and  hill-sides  mark  the  bound 


144  EPIC  POEM. 

Of  busy  hamlets  light  and  gay, 
Where  thrift  and  enterprise  display 
The  features  of  an  active  race 
Destined  in  history  to  grace 
The  brightest  page  of  life's  fair  scroll, 
As  age  on  age  the  sheets  unroll ; 
Here  stood  the  free,  the  active  man, 
Dissenting  Scot  or  Puritan, 
For  life,  for  death,  himself  a  host. 
Just  what  New  England  now  can  boast ! 
Whate'er  his  purposes  engage. 
Reveals  a  bright  Saturnian  age ; 
The  stream  of  thrift  abundant  flows, 
And  woodlands  blossom  as  the  rose ; 
Such  is  the  favored  spot,  Glendale, 
And  we  resume  our  rhythmic  tale. 

One  fair  departing  summer  day. 
She  met  a  stranger  on  her  way, 
As  home  she  traced  the  village  lawn. 
With  step  elastic  as  the  fawn  ; 
A  gentle  step  of  perfect  grace. 
The  rose  of  health  upon  her  face. 
Which  seemed  by  Nature  made  to  smile, 
Though  grief  had  left  its  trace  the  while : 
The  stranger,  proud  in  mien,  surveyed 
With  covert  look  the  village  maid ; 
His  garb  was  rich — his  agile  form 
Betoicened  strength  and  nature  warm  ; 
He  drew  more  near,  with  pace  more  slow, 
And  more'  admired  her  brow  of  snow; 
While  she  with  quick,  averted  gaze 


MISSION  BRIDE.  145 

Looked  toward  the  sunset's  ruddy  rays 
Which  fell  upon  the  wayside  flowers, 
The  clover  meads  and  daisy  bowers, 
And  lit  them  for  the  fairy's  dance, 
Before  the  noon  of  night's  advance. 
Irene  passed  by  with  quicker  pace ; 
He  bowed  with  low,  habitual  grace. 
Which  she  with  cool  reserve  returned, 
While  warm  her  cheeks  with  flushes  burned; 
Then  hastening,  gained  her  peaceful  home 
While  Luna  sought  the  ether-dome, 
And  limpid  dews  prepared  to  shine 
At  morn  on  elm  and  eglantine, 
To  crystallate  each  floral  crown. 
And  bind  the  wings  of  thistle-down. 

The  pleasant  cheer  of  evening  passed, 

The  drooping  sense  was  early  clasjjed 

In  slumber's  soft,  mysterious  arms; 

Her  mind,  in  search  of  dreamy  charms, 

Conceived  a  paradise  its  own. 

And  made  its  deepest  music  known 

To  memory,  whose  failing  task 

Gave  not  to  morning  what  it  asked  ! 

When  airy  waves  of  rising  day 

Far  o'er  the  hill-tops  swept  their  way. 

She  woke  with  one  sweet  dream  retained. 

Which  o'er  the  reveries  long  maintained 

Remembrance  sweet,  delightful,  clear 

As  innocence'  pellucid  tear  : 

With  heavenly  purpose  pure  and  mild. 

An  angel  mother  o'er  her  child 

10 


146  EPIC  POEM. 

Bent  down  in  atmosphere  so  bright 
It  made  the  walls  a  bloom  of  light ! 
With  silvery  wings  that  oft  unfurled 
Their  radiance  in  the  starry  world, 
And  kiss  ethereal,  she  conveyed 
Unearthly  raptures  to  the  maid ! 
A  voice  with  notes  of  song  divine 
Gave  human  hope  a  new  design ; 
Her  gracious  words  of  love  and  truth 
Seemed  born  of  sinless  spirit-youth  ! 

At  morn  her  happy  steps  go  forth 

With  cheerful  hope,  in  duty's  path; 

The  stranger,  lo  !  appears  again, 

Whose  careful  gaze  betokens  plain 

The  object  of  his  morning  search; 

She  turns  within  a  copse  of  birch. 

Across  a  brook — the  hour  of  nine 

Sends  loud  and  clear  the  school-bell's  chime ; 

Now  rosy  urchins  hide  their  balls, 

And  in  the  bag  the  marble  falls ; 

The  rings  break  up  from  play  and  song, 

And  o'er  the  threshold  rush  the  throng ; 

Across  the  lintel  sunlight  streams 

And  slowly  marks  the  mid-day's  beams. 

Then  joyous  bounding  o'er  the  meads, 

Each  buoyant  footstep  homeward  leads. 

'Twas  not  the  teacher's  happy  fate 

To  reach  again  the  pastor's  gate 

Till  thus,  with  etiquette  polite, 

Accosted  her  the  pseudo  knight :    . 

**  Good  day,  fair  Miss !  this  liberty 


MISSION    MRIDE.  147 

Allow,  a  stranger  though  to  thee ! 
My  name,  Stelthair  de  Forest  Wiles, 
Well  known  your  townsman  Dr.  Giles  : 
The  Virgin  State  contains  my  home; 
For  health  and  rest  abroad  I  roam ; 
Thou  knowest  well  a  stranger's  claim, 
For  '  stranger  is  a  holy  name  ! '  " 

Irene's  kind  favor  almost  won. 
She  bowed  assent  with  gentle  tone  ; 
Then  pleasant  chat  beguiled  the  way, 
Till  by  the  home  of  Samuel  Ray 
The  stranger  bade  a  soft  "  good  day." 

At  -eve  Irene  her  sister  seeks 
And  of  her  late  adventure  speaks  : 
Fair  Helen's  joyous  mirth  breaks  out 
With  many  a  gay  and  ringing  shout  : 
"  I'll  vie  with  you — I'll  win  the  prize 
And  woo  the  wooer  in  disguise : 
He  shall  not  know  until  too  late 
That  I'm  nor  passive,  nor  sedate  ; 
When  sure  his  heart  is  fairly  won, 
Some  luckless  moment  I'll  be  gone ! 
Yes,  like  a  bird  escaped  its  cage, 
I'll  sing  and  fly  his  espionage; 
Then  from  his  dream  he  will  awake — 
His  heart  may  feel  but  never  break!" 

*'  O  sister  dear !      Your  speech  is  vain^ 
Such  foolish  impulse  do  restrain  1 
'Tis  meet  a  stranger  here  receive 
Politeness  due — we  may  believe 


148  EPIC  POEM. 

His  tale — his  frankness  must  be  true — 
'Twas  Dr.  Giles  he  said  he  knew — 
And  surely  we  may  thus  presume, 
Nor  uselessly  our  time  consume : 
Come  let  us  sing,  this  tender  hour. 
So  sweetly  breathes  each  leaf  and  flower, 
While  calmly  rises  in  the  East 
Fair  Dian's  hallowed  silver  crest." 

SONG. 

All  nature  owns  the  Power  divine 

Who  gives  us  life  and  love ! 
O  see  the  tranquil  glories  shine, 

The  peaceful  world  above  ! 
The  far  eternal  lustrous  stars 

Whose  thrones  are  endless  space. 
Which  even  through  the  cloud's  grey  bars 

Disclose  ethereal  grace  ! 

So  let  our  voices  move  in  praise — 

Let  sinless  raptures  wake 
The  glorious  dreams  of  other  days 

And  of  their  bliss  partake  ! 
Immortal  spirits  !  grateful  own 

Jehovah's  gracious  will. 
And  bow  in  awe  before  the  Throne — 

While  passions  slumber  still ! 

Kind  reader,  would  you  know  the  man, 
With  power  his  secret  soul  to  scan — 
The  purpose,  be  it  good  or  ill, 
His  inner  being  would  fulfill  ? 


MISSION  BRIDE.  149 

We  may  not  draw  the  fleshly  vail, 
Discerning  all  the  serpent's  trail ; 
But  as  in  nature  we  behold 
Creation's  tracks — impressions  old— 
In  misty  times,  before  began 
The  Eden-life  and  sin  of  man; 
In  coral  periods  far  remote 
When  lime-mosaics  were  afloat 
In  myriads  of  polished  shells, 
Which  drank  from  ocean's  briny  wells  ; 
So  keen  perception  oft  may  trace 
The  heart's  deep  history  on  the  face — 
An  index  true  which  Nature  owns 
Imprinted  on  its  facial  tomes  ! 

Stelthair  de  Wiles  lived  not  apart 
From  those  possessing  purer  heart ; 
He  was  net  old,  nor  scarcely  young, 
Yet  skilled  in  grace  and  gentle  tongue  : 
His  slender  form  and  shoulders  high, 
Dark,  dreamy,  but  delusive  eye; 
His  narrow  brow,  and  coal-tinged  hair, 
And  thin  pale  cheeks — as  maiden's  fair, 
With  most  decided  shaven  chin. 
And  coral  lips,  designed  to  win 
An  unsuspecting  kiss,  or  mould 
Attractive  words  with  meaning  cold — 
His  sensibility  a  mask, 
To  understand  him  were  a  task. 

Where  "  Old  Dominion"  mountains  rear 
Their  brows  to  meet  the  tempests'  clieer, 
When  rushing  from  Atlantic's  shore 


ISO  EPIC  POEM. 

Sublimely  grand  their  tumults  roar 
And  break  their  currents  down  the  hill 
To  whistle  in  the  valley  shrill, 
To  penetrate  in  cedar  shade 
And  serenade  each  flowery  glade  ; 
Where  wild  Monongahela  winds, 
And  many  a  green  encircling  binds, 
A  rude  old  house  of  dingy  stone 
Afar  from  hamlet  stood  alone, 
Whose  smoky  gables  frowned  forlorn — 
'Twas  there  Stelthair  De  Wiles  was  born. 

Wild  as  the  region  of  his  birth. 
He  early  longed  to  roam  the  earth ; 
With  native  impulse,  passion  fed. 
The  pastoral  life  his  father  led 
Conduced  to  irritate  within 
His  undeveloped  love  of  sin  : 
This  in  the  guise  of  self-deceit 
Made  all  forbidden  pleasures  sweet. 
His  glowing  mind  was  quick  and  bright 
With  fickle,  ever-changing  light 
Of  dreams  uncertain  fancy  wrought, 
Induced  by  cherished  sinful  thought. 

Earth's  rich  alluvial  virgin  soil 

Pours  in  the  lap  of  patient  toil 

Her  cereal  treasures  life  to  sate — 

To  gladden  natures  animate, 

And  smiles  with  flowers  and  fruits  more  gay 

Than  fields  uncultured  e'er  display  : 

'Tis  so  with  mind,  in  early  youth 


MISSION  BRIDE.  151 

If  error  dims  the  sun  of  truth, 
And  loose  and  dank  the  passions  start, 
Enveloping  the  yielding  heart, 
Where  mouldy  atmospheres  of  sin 
Send  back  the  pure  to  rust  within. 

But  let  us  leave  this  moral  strain, 
And  trace  our  sequel  on  amain  : 
^Vhile  moons  were  numbering  away, 
De  Wiles  prolonged  his  artful  stay 
At  church,  at  home — in  every  place — 
He  won  respeet;  his  studied  grace  ; 
In  gay  assemblies — song  or  dance — 
Charmed  every  beauty  with  his  glance. 
And  all  the  maidens  vied  to  please 
The  stranger  knight  so  well  at  ease. 
In  social  gatherings  more  sedate. 
His  flashing  wit  made  all  elate  ; 
In  every  scene  his  presence  shared, 
Irene  received  his  marked  regard. 
And  gossip  with  its  tongues  of  hate 
Whispered  aloud  the  orphan's  fate! 

Then  Samuel  Ray,  with  care  began 
The  stranger's  character  to  scan  : 
"  I  fear,  dear  child,  your  loving  trust 
Is  placed  in  one  whose  words  are  dust. 
Which  even  now  begins  to  rise 
To  dim  the  radiance  of  your  skies! 
Ay,  more ;   I  fear  the  gathering  cloud 
Surcliarged  with  ruin's  thunders  loud. 
Which  not  like  summer  showers  past 


152  EPIC  POEM. 

Reveal  the  sun  more  bright,  may  cast 
O'er  all  your  future  life  a  gloom 
More  dread  than  hung  o'er  Oscar's  tomb  f 
"  You  cannot  love,  for  woe, or  weal 
Him,  who  your  innocence  would  steal ; 
I  see  no  charm  in  Wiles  to  win 
A  heart  like  yours !  His  life  of  sin 
Seen  through  the  guise  I  well  can  mark, 
'Tis  stamped  upon  his  visage  dark  : 
Be  sure  Irene,  there's  much  concealed — 
Much  that  his  words  have  not  revealed ! 
And  hear  me  now  ere  yet  too  late — 
Risk  not  your  peace  to  such  a  fate ! " 

While  tear-drops  coursed  adown  her  cheek, 

Irene  replied  in  accents  meek  : 

"  Dear  father,  such  to  me  you  are, 

I  thank  you  for  your  tender  care  ; 

Perchance  my  seeming  thoughtless  way 

Has  led  your  watchful  mind  astray. 

For  is  not  all  my  holy  love 

Still  consecrate  to  him  above ! 

Can  I  forget  my  Oscar  !   No  ! 

The  noiseless  stream  has  deepest  flow  ; 

But  must  my  life  be  one  dark  day 

Unsunned  by  love's  sweet  beaming  ray, 

Except  the  light  which  this  sweet  home 

So  genial  sheds  ?  And  must  I  roam 

The  tangled  dells  and  damps  of  Earth, 

Where  ne'er  the  flowers  of  truth  have  birth  ? 

Or  must  I  never  love  a  friend  ? 

And  have  I  failed  to  comprehend 


MISSION  BRIDE.  153 

In  friendship's  smile  a  cold  disguise — 

The  artifice  of  gentle  lies  ! 

No  course  except  what  you  commend 

Shall  aid  me  e'en  to  choose  a  friend  ; 

'Tis  less  than  friendship,  father  dear, 

De  Wiles  can  claim — dismiss  your  fear !  " 

The  pastor  spoke  :  "  Irene,  my  child, 
I  fear  'tis  love  has  you  beguiled — 
Beguiled  before  you  know  its  power 
To  nestle  in  that  sacred  bower 
Of  calm  and  trustful  innocence — 
Your  youthful  heart ! 
You  ask  if  you  must  ever  roam 
The  tangled  dells  of  life  alone. 
And  through  its  crooked  pathways  glide 
Without  a  friend  to  love  and  guide  ! 
No,  no !  my  dear  adopted  child  : 
Your  mother  on  her  death-bed  smiled 
When  to  my  tender  care  she  gave 
Her  only  child,  one  boon  to  crave 
From  Heaven — her  last,  sincere  desire 
That  I  might  wisely  watch  the  fire 
Of  love  that  in  your  soul  must  burn, 
Might  teach  your  heart  to  prize  and  learn 
The  pure  and  holy  ways  of  truth 
Instilled  so  deeply  in  your  youth — 
Might  watch  with  close,  parental  care. 
And  save  you  from  the  tempter's  snare. 
I  promised  this  in  hopeful  trust 
Before  the  dust  returned  to  dust — 
Before  thy  mother's  spirit  riven 


154  EPIC  POEM. 

Had  found  its  way  to  God  and  heaven. 
Irene,  review  the  past  with  care, 
Escape  the  serpent's  wily  snare ! 
Search  deep  your  latent  heart-throbs  true, 
And  all  your  thoughts  and  acts  review ; 
Then,  on  the  morrow  let  me  know 
The  source  whence  your  emotions  flow." 

Irene  retired  with  prayerful  thought. 
And  Heaven's  kind  direction  sought : 
The  morn  its  ruddy  glow  unfurled 
And  called  to  life  the  sleeping  world : 
The  maid  with  healthful  beauty  blest 
Her  loving  guardian  thus  addressed  : 
"  De  Wiles  has  surely  thrown  a  light 
Around  my  pathway  clear  and  bright, 
And  from  my  mind  has  chased  the  gloom 
That  chained  my  being  to  the  tomb ! 
His  mind  intelligent — his  thought 
With  gleams  of  glowing  beauty  fraught. 
His  comprehensive  sympathy, 
And  sensitive  philosophy, 
With  all  their  pure,  exquisite  sense 
Of  nature's  life,  has  e'en  commenced 
■An  answermg  response  in  me — 
It  may  be  love,  I  plainly  see ; 
And  though  I  cannot  yet  believe 
He  can  so  artfully  deceive. 
Cautious  I'll  be  in  every  word ; 
He  shall  not  know  how  deeply  stirred 
My  longing  life  by  him  has  been — 
My  friendship  I  can  yet  restrain." 


MISSION  BRIDE.  155 

Then — from  that  day  she  grew  reserved 
And  watched  to  see  if  he  deserved 
Her  confidence :  she  studied  well, 
And  thus  began  to  fade  the  spell — 
The  mask  gave  way  like  silver  film 
Of  cloud  at  noon ;  the  truth  less  dim 
Reflected  from  her  own  pure  soul, 
Revealed  his  passion's  base  control. 
Less  delicate,  he  now  betrayed 
Despite  his  art,  that,  for  the  maid 
No  high  communion  of  the  mind, 
No  noble  love  had  he  designed  ; 
And  soon  the  hollow  pretense  came  : 
A  "  depth  of  love  " — aroused  to  flame — 
"  Eternal  coustaucy"  and  '■^pure 
Soul-worship"  begged  he  to  secure 
For  "  Sweet  Irene  " — his  "pearl  of  price  " 
His"  peri  formed  for  paradise  !  " 

She  gave  him  gentle,  firm  decline ; 
Her  heart  was  still  "content  to  shine 
In  simple  spheres  where  duty  led," 
Her  "  love  of  love  was  with  the  dead." 

There  was  no  power  to  thus  appease 
A  passion  seeking  but  to  please 
Its  own  vile  sense,  the  more  allured 
With  purity  it  deemed  secured. 
Exulting  in  the  reign  of  power, 
Infernal  for  one  guilty  hour  ! 
With  mock  control  and  formal  art 
He  bowed,  and,  rising  to  depart — 


156  EPIC  POEM. 

*'  Once  more  we  meet  before  the  day 
Already  fixed  to  end  my  stay ; 
For  here  your  smile,  against  my  will, 
Has  kept  me  long  and  longer  still ; 
I'm  sure  you'd  not  with  specious  art, 
Deceptive,  win  to  spurn  my  heart ! 
Good  evening,  Miss!  You  will  regret, 
And  take  me  back  to  favor  yet !  " 

Pursuing  still  her  even  way 

The  village  teacher  sought  each  day 

Her  routine  in  the  school-house  brown, 

Regardles  of  her  suitor's  frown. 

One  day  when  tripping  o'er  the  plain, 

De  Forest's  gaze  she  met  again : 

My  love  !  I  came  in  search  of  you, 

My  fond  confession  to  renew  ! 

Has  not  your  gentle  heart  repealed 

The  cruel  verdict  lately  sealed  ? 

I  know  you  love  vie — answer,  yes  ! 

Let  those  sweet  lips  the  truth  confess  ! 

Irene!  be  mistress  of  my  bower — 

Its  rare  exotic,  queenly  flower  ! 

Let  no  barbarian  tendrils  dare 

Embrace  my  rose,  njy  peerless  fair  ! 

Sit  down  upon  the  velvet  grass 

And  bless  the  breezes  as  they  pass  ! 

Come,  love,  sweet  darling  !  angel !  come  ! 

No  more  from  your  adorer  roam." 

Surprised,  perplexed,  she  failed  reply 

And  drooped  her  trank  and  thoughtful  eye ; 

Her  silence  proved  a  faithless  guide— 


ICIISSION   BRIDE.  157 

He  sprang  unto  the  maiden's  side  ; 

Then  conscious  (lignity  awoke — 

No  more  delay — she  promptly  spoke: 

"  You  once  commanded  my  esteem, 

I  once  believed  you  what  you  seem, 

But  now  your  true  design  I  know, 

You'll  please  me  most  to  leave  me — go  ; 

/'//  tarry  not—0\i !   Helen  Ray  !  * 

I'm  glad  you've  wandered  forth  this  way  ! 

Your  company  just  now  I  prize" — 

While  speaking,  Helen's  piercing  eyes 

Looked  on  De  Wiles,  who  almost  quailed ; 

A  guilty  consciousness  assailed 

His  sense,  before  the  pure  and  bright, 

As  Satan  shuns  the  realms  of  light ; 

With  rage  depict,  the  waning  day 

Beheld  his  footsteps  turn  away ; 

His  flashing  eye  of  serpent  kin 

Proclaimed  the  passion  power  within ; 

As  when  a  lion's  dashing  leap 

Beholds  his  cherished-prey  escape. 

With  angry  growl  he  seeks  his  lair, 

So  felt  the  guilty,  dark  Stelthair ! 

The  afternoon  was  calm  and  clear, 

The  maidens  fair,  devoid  of  fear, 

Their  pathway  sought  along  the  way 

To  the  sweet  home  of  Samuel  Ray. 

Peace  brooded  o'er  the  gentle  world. 

Blue  smoke-wreaths  o'er  the  hamlet  curled, 

And  round  it  wound  the  river  slow, 

Helen  at  that  moment  appeared  in  view. 


158  EPIC  POEM. 

As  gathering  winds  began  to  blow  ; 

The  sinking  sun,  far  in  the  West, 

Behind  a  cloud  concealed  his  crest ; 

And  darkly  rose  a  shadowy  vail, 

That  upward  spread  its  cloudy  sail  ; 

Now  hoarse,  low  thunders  break,  and  tell 

Of  August  day's  disturbed  farewell. 

And  lightnings  flashing  through  the  sky 

Proclaim  the  showery  torrents  nigh  ; 

Pedestrians  urge  their  pace  to  gain 

A  shelter  from  the  approaching  rain, 

The  horsemen  house  with  care  their  steeds, 

The  chickens  hide  among  the  weeds, 

The  locusts'  din  no  more  is  heard 

Nor  trills  the  singing  wood-land  bird. 

All,  all  is  hushed — the  storm -king  reigns 

O'er  village,  mount — o'er  glades  and  plains ; 

In  one  dear  home  of  green  Glendale, 

Within  this  happy  Eden  vale, 

The  lightning's  flash,  the  thunder's  roar, 

Points  to  a  far,  far  distant  shore, 

Reveals  a  scene  where  early  fell 

One  loved  so  dearly — loved  so  well ! 

But  where  is  Stelthair  Forest  now  ? 
Maturing  a  revengeful  vow. 
"  Shall  I  endure  her  maiden  scorn  ? 
Was  I  to  such  dishonor  born  ? 
Not  from  an  angel  would  Stelthair 
Such  vain  contempt  accept  and  bear  ! 
She  yet  must  feel  that  man  has  power 
To  crush  as  well  as  love  a  flower  ! 


MISSION   BRIDE.  159 

The  prize  I've  sought  with  care  intent, 
Wliich  hope  had  with  my  being  blent, 
Shall  not  escape  like  subtle  air, 
Or  morning  dreams  that  promise  fair ! 
I'll  seek  her  bower  to-morrow  night 
When  Luna  curtains  off  her  light ; 
With  firm,  unalterable  will, 
Afy  siveet  revenge  Vll  then  fulfill — 
Unless  the  arch  enchantress  yield 
To  love  persuasive,  unconcealed  / 
I  have  it — yes  /  my  certain  aim 
Shall  quench  that  life,  that  living  flame. 
And  not  imploring  eyes  shall  quail 
My  nerve,  or  make  my  purpose  fail ! 
Then,  Honor !  thou  art  bright  as  now, 
Stelthair  recants  no  vengeful  vow  !  " 

Hours  pass,  but  dangers  linger  near; 

Her  slumbers  broken  ;  conscious  fear 

Awakes  within,  till  prayer  has  soothed 

Her  mind,  to  seek  its  dreamy  food. 

She  slumbers:  o'er  her  swelling  breast 

The  moonbeams  steal  to  give  attest 

To  fairer  beauty  on  her  brow, 

And  make  the  shadows  wonder  how 

The  lilies  left  the  soft  parterre 

To  smile  on  sleeping  beauty  there  ! 

Soft  airs  are  through  the  casement  breathing, 

And  round  it  sheltering  vines  are  wreathing ; 

No  voice  abroad  can  thought  discern. 

And  still  th'  ethereal  asters  burn ; 

There's  rest  in  all  that  happy  home, 


i6o  EPIC  POEM. 

There's  silence  in  the  garden  bloom  ; 
She  starts — one  snowy  hand  is  o'er 
Her  scattered  tresses  flung,  before 
Her  sleeping  eyes  the  other  prest 
In  momentary  half  unrest, 
But  all  again  is  calm  and  still 
As  icy  chains  can  bind  a  rill. 

The  vines  are  torn  aside — he  creeps 

Stealthy  before  he  noiseless  leaps, 

And  by  the  helpless  form  of  youth 

He  stands — the  shame  of  blushing  Truth  ! 

Oh  base,  deceitful,  erring  man  I 

No  mortal  eye  has  power  to  scan 

The  demon  kindred  of  thy  heart ; 

But  soon  Remorse,  with  poison  dart. 

Shall  pierce  the  mask,  and  doom  thy  life 

To  phantom  visions  of  the  knife. 

And  murder's  living,  clamorous  stain 

Shall  seek  its  duplicate  to  gain. 

No  more  to  thee  this  beauteous  earth 

Be  fraught  with  beauty's  heavenly  worth  ! 

The  tranquil,  starry  dome  above ; 

The  moon,  approver  mild  of  love, 

The  shimmering  river,  and  the  breeze 

Which  night  has  quickened  'mong  the  trees, 

And  evening  incense  of  the  flowers, 

Are  thy  reproach  for  future  hours ; 

Within  the  dungeon  of  thy  mind, 

Still  chained,  thy  hopes  shall  be  confined  ! 


MISSION  BRIDE.  i6i 

He  dares  disturb  her  angel  dreams, 

He  smothers  all  her  rising  screams, 

And  closes  every  source  of  breath 

Till  nature  yields  in  silent  death  ; 

Then  bears  away  her  fainting  form 

With  strength  derived  from  passion's  storm. 

He  passed  the  lawn  beyond  the  well, 

The  garden  where  strange  shadows  fell 

From  hoary  elms,  that  frowned  more  stern 

As  seemed  their  boughs  the  crime  to  learn  ! 

He  stops  :  his  burden  down  beside 

The  noiseless  river's  limpid  tide 

He  lays.     The  stiflings*  disappear; 

But  hark  !     He  lists  !  there's  footsteps  near  ! 

His  purpose  quickening,  passion  foul 

Gives  force  to  nerve,  and  strength  to  soul : 

Revenge  !  his  purpose  bathed  in  blood, 

Now  plunged  his  victim  in  the  flood  ! 

"  'Tis  done  !  "  half  audibly  he  said  ; 

A  moment  more  and  he  had  fled ! 

He  thought  to  find  the  thickest  shades, 

But  scarcely  reached  the  upland  glades 

When  sometliing  held  his  footsteps  back — 

A  deathly  phantom  on  his  track  ! 

We  leave  him  now ;  his  guilty  soul 

In  vengeance  deep  shall  writhe  and  roll. 

The  life  had  not  become  extinct ; 
The  brain,  though  still,  had  power  to  think  : 
The  arm  of  God  had  fettered  back 
Destruction's  arrow  on  her  track. 

'  Stiflings.     Things  used  for  stopping  the  breath. 
1 1 


i62  EPIC  POEM. 

That  footstep,  heard,  had  reached  the  place, 
And  in  the  moonhght  clearly  traced 
The  murder  foul — the  death  extreme ! — 
When,  plunging  in  the  rolling  stream, 
It  waked  again  those  kindling  fires 
Which  struggling  Nature  e'er  aspires. 
The  stranger  bore,  with  gentle  care, 
Within  the  nearest  dwelling,  there 
The  speechless  form  to  life  redeemed ; 
While  he,  strange  as  it  ever  seemed, 
Escaped,  nor  dropped  the  least  reveal 
To  guide  direct  or  ope  the  seal. 

Meanwhile  the  pastor's  house  was  still 
In  gentle  sleep  ;  no  fear  of  ill 
Disturbed  its  inmates'  breathing  rest. 
Nor  gave  to  dreams  a  sterner  zest. 

Rejoicing  in  the  sunny  morn, 
Her  sister's  tresses  to  adorn. 
Bright  Helen  seeks  her,  wondering  why 
Irene  is  sleeping,  when  the  sky 
'   Is  growing  blue,  and  bright,  and  gay, 
In  rays  that  o'er  the  hill-tops  stray  ! 
Glad  notes  are  trilling  from  her  tongue — 
The  yielding  door  is  open  flung — 
*'  Where  is  Irene  ?     None  have  as  yet 
Her  morning  salutation  met !  " 
She  quickly  sees  her  daily  dress 
Is  where  'twas  laid  at  night ;  distress 
Her  nervous  faculties  possess ; 
She  flies  along  the  hall — "  O  dear ! 


MISSION  BRIDE.  163 

Dear  father  !  mother  !  oh  !  I  fear 
Something  has  happened  to  Irene ! 
Some  one  has  in  her  chamber  been. 
She's  gone  !     The  open  window — oh  ! 
Some  dreadful  fate  is  hers  I  know ; 
Her  dress  and  slippers  too  are  there — 
But  where  is  sister — where,  oh,  where  ?  " 

But  scarce  was  Helen's  broken  word 
By  sire,  or  son,  or  matron  heard, 
When  all  were  in  the  rifled  room 
O'erwhelmed  with  fear  for  Irene's  doom  : 
"  Yes,  violence  has  wrought  the  deed  ! 
De  Wiles — his  work  in  this  I  read," 
Ejaculated  Samuel  Ray  : 
"  I've  felt  no  peace  since  dawned  the  day 
This  treacherous  man  approached  Glendale; 
His  purpose  was  too  base  to  fail !  " 
Then  forth  he  starts  alarm  to  sound, 
And  soon  the  tidings  spread  around. 

She's  found  alive ! 
Oh,  yes  !  for  in  that  awful  hour 
The  orphan  'scaped  the  murderer's  power. 
She  oped  her  eyes  upon  the  crowd 
Of  anxious  ones  beside  her  bowed  ; 
On  couch  ot  down  to  rest  once  more 
Strong  arms  of  love  the  sufferer  bore. 
She  suffers  little  sense  of  pain, 
Her  thoughts  in  lethargy  remain, 
Till,  with  a  dirge-like,  saddened  wail 
The  windy  Autumn  throws  its  vail 
Of  dying  glories  round  the  year, 


i64  EPIC  POEM. 

And  chiller  shadows  reappear, 
And  shriller  through  the  rifled  bowers 
Stern  prophecies  of  winter  hours 
Rebound  upon  the  bracing  air, 
While  leaves  are  fluttering  here  and  there, 
And  mouse  and  squirrel  store  away- 
Sweet  nuts  to  cheer  the  wintry  day. 

Attended  with  the  tenderest  care. 
Again  her  spirit  wakes  to  share 
In  fond  affection's  certain  light, 
The  pastimes  of  the  frosty  night. 
Sad  Memory  so  rarely  claimed 
The  right,  Stelthair  she  never  named  ! 

Once  more  sweet  Spring  is  on  the  plain, 
With  birds  and  blossoms  in  her  train ; 
Once  more  the  sea-green  spires  of  grass 
Bend  graceful  as  the  breezes  pass ; 
Unprisoned  brooks  in  wider  bound 
Are  threading  silver  o'er  the  ground. 

Another  summer  glided  on, 

Its  harvest  glories  almost  gone, 

The  autumn  days  were  waning  slow 

Beside  the  Housatonic's  flow  ; 

The  corn  and  hay  were  in  the  stacks. 

The  hills  resound  the  woodman's  axe. 

While  faU  huge  trees  with  crushing  bound, 

And  mounts  and  glens  repeat  the  sound. 

And  through  the  valley,  glade  and  glen 

Are  seen  the  homes  of  living  men, 

Of  life  in  thought  and  action  true, 


MISSLON  BRIDE.  165 

To  mould,  to  cultivate,  subdue ; 
To  bid  the  wilderness  retire 
Before  the  all-pervading  fire 
Of  Saxon  life,  and  nature  bind 
To  bless  and  civilize  mankind : 
There,  in  a  glade  within  the  wood, 
Above  the  river's  peaceful  flood, 
Where  rest  the  morning's  orient  beams, 
And  dewdrops  show  their  rainbow  gleams, 
The  stranger  sees  a  rounded  pile 
Of  stone,  within  a  broad  defile — 
Mementos  rude — a  savage  trace — 
The  graveyard  of  the  red  man's  race  1 
Oft  have  the  forest  monarchs  seen. 
Beneath  the  pale  and  moonlit  sheen, 
An  Indian  train  of  warriors  brave 
Bearing  a  comrade  to  his  grave ; 
In  silence,  'mong  the  shades  profound, 
They  reach  the  consecrated  ground  : 
There  stood  the  dark-plumed  Indian  chief, 
The  stern  embodiment  of  grief; 
And  there  the  dark-haired  maiden  wept 
While  starry  hosts  calm  vigils  kept  1 
Years  passed  :  the  hand  of  civil  deal 
Transposed  the  tyjies  of  Indian  weal, 
And  western  rivers  now  describe 
New  limits  for  the  Stockbridge  tribe. 
Still  on  the  beauteous  prairies  West 
The  red  man,  less  content  than  blest, 
At  sunset  or  at  hush  of  night 
When  moonbeams  make  the  forests  bright, 
And  dream-vails  hung  around  the  rills. 


i66  EPIC  POEM. 

Sighs  oft  to  roam  his  native  hills, 
To  bathe  in  Kousatonic's  wave 
And  stand  beside  his  father's  grave  ! 
Then,  oft,  with  each  returning  year, 
As  summer  sunbeams  disappear, 
A  group  of  lodges  might  be  seen 
Beneath  the  fading  forest  green, 
And  near  the  mound  of  stones,  beside 
The  Housatonic's  noiseless  glide: 
There  weeks  were  spent :  the  Indian  stood 
'Mid  hallowed  scenes,  his  fathers  trod 
And  sighed  beneath  the  trees  that  wave 
Their  branches  o'er  his  nation's  grave. 

The  fervor  of  September  days 
Grew  chill  beneath  the  slanting  rays, 
As  Scorpio  marked  a  starry  trail 
Adown  the  autumn's  cooling  vale. 
Irene  restored,  health's  rosy  bloom 
Impels  her  wandering  feet  to  roam 
The  shady  grove,  the  hill-side  where 
Returning  braves  each  year  repair. 
There,  'neath  the  wigwam's  lowly  roof 
She  finds  of  Christian  faith  the  proof, 
A  Youthful  Brave,  whose  heart  revealed 
A  soul  whom  God  the  Father  sealed. 
Her  heart,  a  mine  of  pious  truth, 
Grows  fervent,  as  this  Christian  youth 
The  story  of  their  wants  describes. 
The  desolation  of  the  tribes  : 
"  Dark  views  of  God  degrade  the  man ; 
Unknown  to  them  the  Saviour's  plan 


MISSION  BRIDE.  167 

To  purge  from  sin,  by  faith  redeem, 
And  dissipate  the  fatal  dream 
Which  hovers  o'er,  in  dark  control, 
The  untaught  race — the  red  man's  soul !  " 
Skenanda  pleads  his  people's  cause ; 
"  They  need  to  learn  of  God — his  laws, 
His  truth,  his  will,  his  gracious  love 
Which  sent  to  earth  the  heavenly  Dove  ; 
The  Lamb  of  God  !  who  once  unfurled 
His  banner  o'er  a  sinful  world ! 
'Tis  true,  the  mission-man  will  preach, 
And  of  the  glorious  Saviour  teach, 
But  still  they  need  a  woman's  tongue 
To  charm  the  old,  instruct  the  young, 
And  gently  lead  the  way  to  heaven, 
By  act  and  precept  kindly  given  !  " 

And  now  the  living  chords  of  home 
Seem  breaking,  in  her  wish  to  roam 
From  gentle  friends,  afar  away, 
To  teach  the  Indians  how  to  pray. 

Her  purpose  deep  matured  with  care 
Before  the  throne  of  God  in  prayer, 
With  filial  trust,  without  delay 
She  sought  the  aid  of  Samuel  Ray: 
The  good  man  heard  his  dear  Irene 
Disclose  her  plan  with  brow  serene. 
And  marvelled  that  a  faitii  so  strong 
Shoulil  find  its  home  in  one  so  young! 
He  spoke  in  accents  sweetly  mild. 
And  kindly  kissed  liis  foster-child  ; 


'68  EPIC  POEM. 

With  soft  remonstrance  he  portrayed 
Requirements,  dangers,  there  arrayed, 
Which  soon  her  energies  would  waste, 
And  gently  urged  her  zeal,  misplaced. 

"  None  know  but  God  the  sacrifice 

Your  child  thus  makes,  but  she  would  rise 

Above  a  selfish  thought  and  aim. 

And  yield  herself  to  duty's  claim  : 

My  trembling  spirit  almost  faints 

As  parting  scenes  my  fancy  paints : 

To  bid  farewell — a  last  adieu 

To  sisters  dear,  to  brother  true, 

To  parents — oh  !  that  hallowed  word 

Awakes  within  my  soul  a  chord 

Which  vibrates  quivering,  and  reveals 

E'en  more  than  love  parental  seals  ! 

I  feel  the  all-pervading  bond. 

My  Saviour  calls  and  I  respond !  " 

She  ceased  :  Each  heart  the  theme  partakes 

And  sobs  alone  the  silence  breaks  ; 

They  knelt  to  God — the  good  man  prayed 

For  strength,  that  she  might  undismayed 

Accept  the  call — might  ever  stand 

A  polished  gem  in  God's  right  hand. 

That  all  might  bow,  might  ever  feel 

A  meek  submission  to  his  will. 

They  rose  in  strength — "  God's  will  be  done  !  " 

Faith's  clearer  light  appeared  to  dawn — 

Their  daughter,  sister,  they  resign 

To  God's  own  work — a  call  divine. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  169 

Before  she  bid's  a  last  adieu 

To  childhood's  scenes,  in  memory  true, 

Irene,  at  eve,  alone  goes  forth 

To  water,  with  her  tears,  the  earth 

Wherein  the  mouldering  ashes  rest 

Of  those  loved  earliest  and  best: 

Beside  her  parents'  graves  she  kneels, 

A  deeper  sense  of  sadness  feels. 

As  thought  uncurbed,  with  clouded  wing, 

Speeds  back  to  childhood's  flowery  spring 

Bearing  a  chastened,  solemn  trace 

Of  that  most  sacred,  hallowed  place. 

The  rippling  of  a  Lethean  stream 

Is  holy  in  the  passing  dream ; 

Though  weeping  willows  o'er  it  bear, 

The  beauty  of  the  fas/  is  there. 

In  pensive  charm,  and  by  its  brink. 

The  same  bright  daisies  love  to  drink, 

And  summer  cloudlets — fairy  isles — 

As  long  ago,  seem  Heaven's  smiles  ! 

Again  have  halcyon  wings  returned, 

And  joy's  clear  lamps  before  her  burned. 

The  spirits  of  her  infant  home 

Almost  dispel  her  wish  to  roam 

Afar  in  danger's  hidden  track, 

For,  oh  !  her  childhood  has  come  back  ! 

Tis  gone  :  the  freshening  of  the  breeze 

Wakes  mournful  sounds  among  the  trees, 

And  fitful  beats  the  pulse  of  day, 

While  changing  dark,  the  shadows  grey 

Of  shrub  and  tree,  appear  more  dense, 

More  gloomy  to  the  maiden's  sense; 


170  EPIC  POEM. 

She  hears  the  shrieking  of  the  owl, 

While  clouds  are  closing  like  a  cowl 

Across  the  recess  of  the  West, 

And  birds  have  hymned  themselves  to  rest ; 

She  leaves  for  aye  the  sacred  spot. 

Ne'er,  O  ne'er  to  be  forgot ! 

While  hasting  through  the  twilight  dark. 

To  angel  tones  she  seems  to  hark. 

And  sweetly  low  these  accents  flow — 

"Go  forth,  Irene!  to  duty  go; 

God  watches  o'er  our  lovely  child ; 

His  arm  protects  through  every  wild  !  " 

Then  round  her  way  there  seems  to  spread 

A  lustrous  vision  of  the  dead, 

Which  fades  not  till  her  steps  once  more 

Have  passed  within  the  pastor's  door. 

With  solemn,  pensive,  tearful  eye, 
Irene  bestows  her  long  "  good  bye  " 
On  friends  whose  constant  acts  have  proved 
How  well  the  orphan  girl  they  loved  ! 
.   The  wishes  of  the  gentle  pair, 
The  sad  regrets  of  Helen  fair, 
The  consciousness  of  Robert's  truth. 
Now  manly  in  his  opening  youth. 
Nor  all  the  memories  of  the  past 
In  fond  beseechings  overcast. 
Can  woo  her  mind  to  break  the  seal 
Devotion  set  for  Indian  weal ! 
A  woman  now  in  fullest  sense, 
A  wider  scope  she  will  commence ; 
Chastened  by  many  griefs,  her  soul 


MISSION  BRIDE.  171 

Is  strong  in  God ;  a  noble  goal 
Pictured  in  truthful  dreams  may  rise, 
Its  base  the  earth,  its  dome  the  skies, 
Where  alcoves  glorious  invite 
The  mind  to  feel  its  inner  light. 
More  certain  than  in  visioned  youth 
To  fix  her  hopes  on  living  truth. 

"  '  The  way  is  long,'  the  father  said, 
As  through  the  western  wilds  he  sped. 

With  eager  searching  eye  ;  " 
An  emigrant  with  courage  bold, 
Who  nothing  cares  for  paltry  gold, 

Conducts  a  numerous  family 
To  find  a  home  of  sweet  content, 
Where  years  in  quiet  may  be  spent. 

Irene,  an  angel  in  the  band. 
Still  ponders  on  her  native  land. 

But  no  regretting  tears  arise  ; 
The  courage  of  a  Christian's  heart 
Can  foil  the  cruel  tempter's  dart ; 

She  gazes  on  the  evening  skies 
As  sets  each  day  o'er  plain  and  stream 
The  summer  sun's  benignant  beam. 
Her  consecrated  thoughts  delight 
To  watch  its  parting  promise  light ; 

She  cheers  the  matron's  anxious  fear. 
While  heavenly  grace,  like  summer  showers, 
Refreshes  all  her  mental  powers, 

And  in  the  distance  rays  appear, 
Diflusing  from  Religion's  lamp 
Around  the  red  man's  lonely  camp. 


172  EPIC  POEM. 

Now  close  the  curtain,  bind  it  well, 
Let  no  untimely  glimpses  tell 
The  sequel  of  the  far  away 
Wherein  our  noble  one  shall  stray : 
Time — monarch  absolute  and  stern — 
Shall  us  enable  to  discern 
The  record  Mississippi's  wave 
Has  murmured  for  the  orphan's  grave. 


END    OF   PART   I. 


MISSION-B  RIDE 

AN  EPIC  POEM. 


PART     II 


So  far  as  this  our  feelings  and  our  thoughts 
Tend  ever  on  and  rest  not  in  the  Present, 
As  drops  of  rain  fall  into  some  dark  well 
And  from  below  comes  scarce  an  audible  sound, 
So  fall  our  thoughts  into  the  Hereafter 
And  their  mysterious  echo  reaches  us." 

Longfellow. 


Beyond  a  faintly  sliimmering  stream 
The  Indian  hunters'  watch-fires  gleam, 

Soft  shine  the  early  stars  ! 
The  air  is  stirred  by  viewless  hands, 
Dim  phantoms  wander  forth  in  bands — 

The  ghosts  of  Indian  wars — 
Of  conflicts  long  ago  maintained, 
When  vengeance  battling  unrestrained 

Laid  many  a  warrior  low. 
And  Death's  pale  eye  alone  surveyed 
Forms  sleeping  chill  in  moonlit  shade, 

Like  ice  or  sheeted  snow  I 


174  EPIC  POEM. 

A  band  have  paused  the  stream  beside, 
The  haze  is  darkening,  o'er  the  tide 

The  ripples  faintly  play ; 
Their  strength  and  hope  have  struggled  long. 
And  love  revives  a  mournful  song 

Of  childhood's  happy  day  . 
Bright  flames  arise,  between  the  boughs 
The  clouded  moon  but  half  allows 

Its  early  evening  smile ; 
The  travellers  pitch  a  lonely  tent, 
A  solemn  prayer  to  Heaven  is  sent, 

And  sleep  pervades  the  aisle. 

The  morning  sunbeams'  purple  light 

Pursues  the  wavering  shadows'  flight 

Disseminating  joyous  day 

As  with  the  lightning's  speed  they  stray  : 

Again  the  wanderers  wake  to  life, 

With  fears  and  hopes  their  hearts  are  rife ; 

No  time  is  lost;  in  buoyant  hope 

A  gently  rising  southern  slope 

Marks  out  the  well-selected  spot 

Where  logs  shall  form  their  sheltering  cot. 

From  that  day  forth  the  hamlet  spread. 

As  emigrants  were  thither  led  ; 

The  red  man's  camp-fires  round  it  gleamed, 

At  night  the  wolf  and  panther  screamed. 

And  oft  the  musket  trimmed  for  fire 

Was  grasped  by  brother,  son  or  sire. 

Yet  Peace  the  dwellers  hovered  near. 

And  patient  toil  made  life  more  dear. 


MISSION    BRIDE.  175 

A  missionary  years  before 

Had  left  Atlantic's  distant  shore, 

By  God  directed  through  the  wild 

To  save  from  death  the  forest  child  : 

Irene  her  resolution  made 

To  seek  this  Christian  brother's  aid ; 

Escorted  by  her  guardian's  son, 

The  last  long  mile  one  evening  won, 

Their  steeds  are  by  a  cabin,  near 

A  forest  lake  whose  waters  clear 

Embalm  the  boughs  that  o'er  it  bend, 

And  for  its  watery  kiss  contend  : 

The  air  is  still ;  no  ruffling  breeze 

Sends  quivering  sunlight  through  the  trees  ; 

No  woodland  whisper  soft  and  slow 

Disturbs  reflections  dark  below  ; 
The  leafy  pictured  masses  sleep 

Like  tired  explorers  of  the  deep  : 

A  breath,  a  ripple  on  the  tide — 

A  white  canoe  with  silent  glide 

Darts  forward — eagle  plumes  appear ! 

A  warrior  in  his  proudest  gear 

Bounds  on  the  sloping,  weedy  shore ; 

His  bark  secured,  he  strides  before 

The  cot,  sits  down  upon  the  grass 

Shaded  by  boughs  of  sassafras. 

Meanwhile  the  inmates  gather  near. 

The  strangers'  names  and  talcs  to  hear ; 

Their  looks  and  manners  all  confest 

The  full  surprise  of  every  breast : 

The  missionary  round  whose  brow 

The  locks  of  youth  are  turned  to  snow, 


176  EPIC  POEM. 

With  kind,  inquiring  gentle  mien, 
Gave  courage  to  the  young  Irene. 

"  Kind  sir,  my  errand  soon  is  told, 

An  orphan  girl  in  me  behold  ! 

From  pilgrim  valleys  I  have  come 

To  teach  the  Indian  in  his  home ; 

Not  friendless,  or  alone  I  traced 

The  mounts,  and  woods,  and  prairie  waste; 

My  guides  were  true  and  loving  souls — 

Not  far  from  hence  their  cot ;  where  rolls 

The  river  from  the  sunset's  crest 

My  band  have  settled  down  to  rest : 

Some  moons  have  waned  since  there  they  chose 

The  spot  whereon  their  cabin  rose ; 

Your  Christian  labors  I  have  learned. 

My  trembling  heart  has  thither  turned ; 

You  will,  kind  sir,  will  not  refuse 

The  hope  approval  may  infuse  1 

Behold  me  ready  for  the  task, 

Jesus  will  give  the  grace  I  ask !  " 

"  Welcome,  fair  daughter,  as  our  guest ! 
And  more,  if  duty  be  thy  quest ; 
Thy  form  is  frail,  and  young  thy  heart 
To  bear  the  missionary's  part ; 
But  storms  may  leave  unhurt  the  reed 
When  mighty  oaks  must  break  and  bleed ; 
According  to  thy  strength  thy  day, 
That  soul  has  power  that  loves  to  pray." 

Trembling  the  plumes  above  his  brew, 
The  listening  Indian  rises  now  ; 


MISSION  BRIDE.  177 

A  deep,  unyielding  fervor  lies 
Behind  the  sable  of  his  eyes  : 
As  from  their  coral  halls  of  sleep 
Arise  the  wavelets  of  the  deep 
To  gather  mountains  round  the  storm, 
So  full,  expansive,  grows  his  form  ; 
He  speaks  ;  not  as  the  tempest  sounds. 
Not  as  the  echo  far  rebounds, 
Yet  grandly  as  the  breezes  swell 
When  night-winds  diapasons  tell. 

The  Christian's  Manito  is  mine  !     His  light 
Has  found  my  evil  heart,  and  taught  it  love  ! 
The  red  man's  heart  is  proud — his  eyes  are  blind — 
His  pride  shall  fall.     As  clouds  are  scattered  from 
The  prairie,  shall  his  eyelids  be  unloosed. 
God  sent  the  maiden  !     Far  across  the  streams 
Whose  waters  laugh  in  spring-time — far  beyond 
The  cloudy  hill-tops — many  moons  away — 
When  a  few  brave  warriors  trod  the  distance  back 
To  our  rich  hunting-grounds  deserted;  when 
Beside  our  own  blue  stream  we  sat  us  down 
To  sigh  and  view  the  past,  this  tender  bird 
Poured  out  such  strains  as  sing  the  pines  at  night 
When  hunters  rest.     She  wandered  through  the  groves, 
And  once — the  last — I  saw  the  pale  face  dare 
To  lift  his  arm  to  slay  the  singing  bird 
Of  Housatonic  !     Paler  grew  the  moonlight — 
It  withered  on  the  boughs — the  midnight's  breath 
Was  restless — I  sprang  forth  ♦  •   *  * 
His  track  I  followed!     In  the  deep,  still  woods 
I  gained  upon  his  steps !     The  murderer's  stain, 
12 


178  EPIC  POEM. 

The  crime  the  Christian's  God  forbids,  was  red 

Upon  his  guilty  soul !     There  I  avenged 

The  helpless  one — I  brought  him  low !     His  grave 

With  autumn  leaves  I  covered.     Long  before 

That  moon  grew  dark,  our  steps  had  travelled  toward 

Our  sunset  home." 

"  Now  has  she  flown 
From  Heaven's  bright  land  of  souls  to  cheer  and  bless 
My  race  !     The  power  of  Manito  is  here  ! 
She  comes  like  sunbeams  round  a  chasm  dark 
To  tell  the  chiefs  there's  death  and  sorrow  near !  " 

Emotions,  words  have  ne'er  expressed, 

O'ercome  her  strength  and  rack  her  breast; 

Her  bowing  head  is  overwrought 

With  deep,  concealed,  conflicting  thought, 

While  Memory's  weird  and  wandering  power 

Concentres  on  that  awful  hour  I 

The  Present  lost,  like  lightning  gleams. 

The  Past  returns  with  all  its  dreams; 

Life's  shattered  hopes  are  broken  chains, 

Each  link  dissevered,  still  remains 

Scattered  around  her  pensive  feet. 

Pale  ruins  of  her  life's  defeat ! 

No  voice  disturbs  the  silence  brief; 

Each  pulse  is  like  a  fluttering  leaf 

Between  the  utterance  of  storm 

When  nature  writhes  its  giant  form. 

Aroused  to  duty's  present  call, 

She  breaks  the  spell — escapes  the  thrall, 

And  every  footstep  gathers  near 

Her  strange  and  simple  words  to  hear : 


MISSION   BRIDE.  179 

"  No  time  is  this  for  grief  and  sighs  ; 
From  sad  remembrances  I  rise 
With  a  heart  of  hope,  unchilled  by  fears, 
Through  trials  felt  in  my  early  years ! 
That  hour  passed  by — the  victim  lives — 
Bold  warrior !  she  freely  gives 
Her  energies  to  teach  thy  race, 
Of  which  thou  art  a  noble  trace  ! 
Kind  friends,  the  Indian's  tale  is  true : 
He  stamps  the  pledge  for  me  and  you: 
My  name  Irene — an  alien's  child, 
I've  wandered  to  this  distant  wild, 
As  once  my  father  o'er  the  sea 
Sought  exile  in  Columbia  free: 
He  lives,  and  my  sweet  mother,  where 
The  angels  breathe  in  sinless  air ! 
They  beckon  me  from  earth  away, 
But  I  must  here  yet  longer  stay." 

Another  morn  illumes  the  earth, 

A  thousand  gems  of  light  have  birth, 

Wild  music  echoes  through  the  wood, 

And  ripples  softly  stir  the  flood : 

Before  the  sun  had  tmged  the  trees 

When  air  was  life,  and  life  was  ease. 

When  sweetly  cooed  the  mated  dove. 

And  red-birds  warbled  peace  and  love ; 

When  whip-poor-wills  and  owls  of  night 

Were  covcrted  from  morning  light, 

Irene  and  her  young  escort  stood 

Prepared  again  to  trace  the  wood  ; 

Their  steeds  were  reined,  the  last  word  said, 


i8o  EPIC  POEM. 

They  took  the  path  that  homeward  led, 
And  'neath  the  shadowing  forest  sped : 
'Twas  moral  courage  nerved  her  breast, 
And  gave  her  lonely  journey  zest, 
Concealing  in  her  chastened  heart 
Crushed  hopes  of  youth,  the  tempter's  art, 
In  that  one  grand  heroic  will 
To  bless  mankind,  and  to  instill 
New  light  in  some  benighted  soul 
Where  sin  has  held  its  dark  control. 


'Tis  sweet  to  contemplate  the  tace 

Of  childhood  pure  and  fair, 
To  worship  the  convincing  trace 

Of  God's  pure  image  there ; 
To  watch  the  growing  bloom  of  mind, 

Immortal  fruit  mature. 
Perfecting  what  the  Lord  designed 

Forever  to  endure  ! 
To  see  the  child  of  affluence  smile 

With  alabaster  brow, 
Whose  young  refinements  show  no  guile- 

Who  sins,  it  knows  not  how  : 
'Tis  pleasant  to  behold  a  band 

Of  such  bright  birdlings,  taught 
Obedience  and  self-command. 

To  spread  their  wings  of  thought. 
A  teacher's  life! — its  essence,  love! — 

A  life  of  truth,  subhme. 
Its  power  endures,  till  God  above. 

Shall  seal  the  Books  of  Time ! 


MISSION   BRIDE.  i8i 

Not  thus  the  opening  forest  scene, 

Where  labors  our  beloved  Irene ; 

No  cultured-softened,  childish  heart, 

Responds  to  hers  with  guileless  art ; 

But  Indian  youth  these  scenes  portray, 

In  Nature's  rude  and  wild  array. 

There's  look  inquiring  in  the  eye. 

There's  meaning  smile,  there's  motion  shy  ; 

They  watch  the  ever-gentle  play 

Of  human  kindness,  as  the  ray 

Of  morning  glitters  on  the  lake 

O'er  which  the  mountain  shadows  break. 

These  are  the  children  of  the  wood, 

Of  fathers  in  whose  veins  the  blood 

Of  mystic  generations  swells, 

Like  vernal  streams  in  mountain  dells ; 

Still  there's  an  intellectual  light 

Mingling  with  gloomy  mental  night ; 

And  in  those  breasts  are  warm  desires. 

Where  smouldering  burn  dark  passions'  fires, 

Whose  wild  impulses  may  o'erreach 

Each  thought  of  good,  Irene  would  teach. 

She  labors  onward,  day  by  day, 

And  studies  by  the  taper's  ray 

The  few  brief  phrases  that  convey 

Her  meaning  to  the  little  band. 

Who  learn  to  bide  her  soft  command — 

She  seeks  by  symbol  rude,  and  sign. 

To  fix  attention,  to  combine 

A  love  for  good  with  pleasure's  cheer. 

And  each  dark  child  becomes  more  dear; 

As  speak  their  glimmers  of  delight, 


i82  EPIC  POEM. 

Like  starry  twinkles  in  the  night. 

She  feels  their  kindUer  instincts  glow  ; 

And  love  responsive,  in  its  flow, 

Like  rills  that  thread  the  meadow  green, 

flalf  shaded,  yet  in  brightness  seen. 

Gushes  to  cheer  her  lonely  hours, 

And  water  pure  affection's  flowers : 

Each  dusky  urchin  vies  to  bring 

The  captured  bird  of  brightest  wing. 

The  snowy  egg,  the  eagle's  crest. 

The  blossorns  from  the  mountam's  breast. 

The  pebble  and  the  silver  shell, 

And  mosses  from  the  cedar  dell, 

All  treasures  ot  the  broad  domains 

Where  roams  the  red  man,  free  from  chains. 

Now  thunders  mutter  from  afar, 

And  darkness  hovers  o'er  the  band  ; 
Its  shade  may  hide  their  hopeful  star, 

And  overcast  the  peaceful  land. 
The  northern  tribes,  in  fierce  disdain. 

Demand  a  speedy,  full  redress 
Of  wrongs  long  suffered,  they  maintain. 

Within  their  cherished  wilderness. 
In  secret  they  prepare  to  cross 

The  prairies  broad,  to  stem  the  streams  ; 
Dark  treachery  lurks  in  covert  dells. 

And  watch-fires  burn  in  night-long  gleams. 
When  sunset  draws  its  curtains  black. 

And  far,  far  Orion  cloudless  shines, 
His  beams  delineate  a  track — 

A  war-path  traced  in  blood-stained  lines ! 


MISSION  BRIDE.  183 

Silent  and  slow  the  warriors  tread, 

Scarce  starts  the  panther  from  his  lair, 
Or  night's  shrill  songster,  as  its  notes 

Trill  on  the  solemn  evening  air : 
Where  bound  are  they,  this  warrior  throng  ? 

Where  rests  in  peace  a  verdant  glade, 
O'er  whose  sweet  calm  and  slumberous  song 

Death  lurks  to  fall  in  ambuscade  ? 
Far,  far  away  !  and  round  their  fires 

The  hoary  bluffs  a  group  survey, 
And  the  lofty  sycamore  aspires 

To  intercept  the  moon's  pale  ray. 
The  cautious  chief  of  the  Iroquois 

Has  felt  the  danger  drawing  nigh, 
As  ocean's  coming  storms  are  seen 

By  sailors  in  the  troubled  sky. 
Assembled  in  the  shadowy  dawn. 

The  chiefs  around  the  smouldering  flame. 
In  grave,  portentous  council  drawn. 

To  hear  the  words  of  proud  "  Segame." 
"  Brothers  !  there's  death  !     The  northern  winds 

Have  brought  the  panther's  screams  of  war  ! 
Send  out  our  scouts  among  the  pines, 

The  lofty  oaks,  the  plains  afar  1 " 

An  hour  passed  on  ;  that  Indian  camp 

Was  reft  of  all  its  warrior  train ; 
Skirted  around,  though  all  unseen, 

Were  forest,  swamp,  and  prairie  plain. 

But  where  was  now  the  loved  Irene? 

Did  clouds  draw  close  their  shadowing  screen, 

As  vengeance  frowned  in  wild  dismay. 


i84  EPIC  POEM. 

And  peace  forsook  her  toilsome  way  ? 
■     She  had  taught  the  sachem's  favorite  son — 
His  turbulence  her  goodness  won  ! 
Too  young  to  wield  the  warrior's  bow, 
The  chief  allowed  the  prince  to  go, 
To  roam  the  varied  flowery  wild, 
To  climb  the  ledge  by  ages  piled. 
And  gaze  upon  the  surging  stream 
That  laved  its  base,  unknown  to  steam. 
Owasso  found  the  teacher's  cot. 
And  daily  sought  the  love-charmed  spot; 
As  wings  the  eaglet  toward  the  sky, 
Eager  its  new-found  powers  to  try. 
The  Indian  boy's  untutored  soul 
Aspiring  grew  in  her  control ; 
Each  struggling  germ  of  intellect, 
Of  beauty's  ken,  and  self-respect, 
Grew  strong  and  bright,  from  hour  to  hour, 
And  wild  Owasso  felt  its  power. 

Behevest  thou  the  Indian  heart 

With  all  its  innate  cruel  art — 

Revenge  that  sleeps  like  sheath-hid  steel — 

No  warming  gratitude  may  feel  ? 

When  danger  round  that  hamlet  drew, 

And  safety  bade  its  dark  adieu  : 

Owasso  sought,  with  paces  fleet. 

His  white-browed  teacher's  dim  retreat. 

"  Segame,  my  father,  Indian  chief. 
This  morning  plucked  this  paw-paw  leaf 
Which  o'er  his  lodge  so  greenly  grew — 


MISSION    RRIDE.  185 

A  token  of  his  heart  to  you ! 

To  yonder  height,  from  all  secure, 

Beside  a  cavern's  secret  door, 

He  bids  the  White  Dove's  wings  to  fly 

Before  this  sun  has  left  the  sky  ; 

Her  trembling  form  may  rest  when  sounds 

The  war-whoop  through  the  hunting-grounds ! 

Come,  go  with  me,  my  teacher  kind  1 

Owasso  will  the  panther  bind. 

And  guard  with  care,  both  day  and  night, 

The  one  who  gives  him  joy  and  light !  " 

Irene  was  calm — it  was  her  sphere 

To  curb  the  quick  tumultuous  tear; 

She  weighed  the  evidence  of  truth. 

And  answered  thus  the  Indian  youth  : 

"  Tell  your  sire,  my  steps  shall  follow  you 

Ere  danger  comes  to  nearer  view ; 

Tell  him  your  teacher  thanks  the  chief 

For  this  kindness  shown  in  the  message  leaf." 

The  boy  was  gone  as  light  departs 

When  sudden  thunders  Hash  their  darts: 

The  morrow's  night  in  silence  hides 

Within  a  cave's  rough,  ledgy  sides, 

A  group  secure,  with  rocks  embound. 

Safe  from  the  war's  shrill  blood-toned  sound ; 

'Twas  low  and  dark,  that  dwelling  rude, 

Concealed    in  deepest  solitude. 

Within  a  fissure  of  the  ledge 

Whose  front  hung  o'er  a  lakelet's  edge : 

Close  brushwood  hid  the  cavern's  door 


i86  EPIC  POEM. 

And  round  it  twined  were  mosses  hoar. 
Segame  concealed  his  treasures  there 
When  dangers  hovered  in  the  air. 

'Twas  night — the  third  which  o'er  the  plain 
■     Its  dusky  mantling  folds  had  spread, 
Which  marked  a  stern  and  vengeful  train 

As  through  the  wild  their  war-path  led. 
They're  near  the  hamlet — scouts  advance — 

Camp-fires  are  dull — all,  all  is  still ; 
They  tread  in  silence  back,  while  dews 

A  morning  crown  of  gems  distill. 

The  death-bound  host  in  stealthy  track 
Move  onward  slow  like  ghost  terrene. 

The  starlight  casts  dim  shadows  back, 
Wile  Death,  exulting,  scans  the  scene. 

The  night  was  gentle,  sound  was  hushed, 
No  rising  breeze,  no  stirring  dream ; 

The  night-bird  and  the  wild-cat  slept, 
Or  listened  for  the  signal  scream  : 

It  came ;  from  'neath  a  towering  bluff. 
Where  rolls  the  river's  tide  and  slow, 

The  war-whoop  came  in  startling  tones. 
Betokening  death  to  friend  and  toe. 

Forth  like  the  tiger  from  his  lair 

The  ambuscade  in  vengeance  springs ; 

And  the  fierce  Sioux  their  foes  receive, 

And  carnage  stoops  with  blood-stained  wings. 


MISSIOiN  BRIDE.  187 

No  faltering  foe,  brave  Iroquois! 

Now  meets  thy  prowess  hand  to  hand, 
No  trembhng  recreant's  arm  is  here, 

No  laggard  host,  no  wavering  band  ! 

Blows  fall — the  savage  sinks  in  death, 

The  tomahawk  is  bathed  in  blood. 
While  fierce,  exultant  yells  anon 

Terrific  sound  o'er  plain  and  flood. 

Sounds  die  away — the  war-whoop's  din 
Is  changed,  the  victor's  song  is  heard, 

And  e'er  the  sun  engilds  the  plain 

Or  morning's  breath  the  world  has  stirred. 

The  remnant  of  the  northern  bands 

Have  started  for  their  snow-clad  plains. 

While  the  Iroquois  with  bloody  hands 

Are  counting  the  scalps  of  their  enemies  slain. 

One  captive  stands  in  sullen  mood  ; 

The  thongs  his  naked  limbs  embind, 
While  brandished  clubs  and  arrows  fly 

Round  the  fettered  Siou,  to  a  tree  confined. 

The  vale  was  strewn  with  ghastly  dead 

Whose  forms  unburied  there  remain 
To  gorge  the  wolves  of  the  forest  ilread, 

As  they  snufi"  the  air  on  the  bloody  plain. 

But  proud  .Segamc  and  his  warrior  host 
Are  silent  and  still  as  they  bear  away 

The  mangled  remains  of  the  Irocjuois — 
The  doomed  who  fell  in  that  fierce  affray. 


i88  EPIC  POEM. 

And  the  wail  that  rose  on  that  mornmg's  breath, 
Called  from  their  homes  a  solemn  train 

Oi  matrons  and  maids,  who  bewail  their  death 
With  howls  that  roll  o'er  the  prairie  plain. 

They  have  reached  the  camp :  the  tribes  prepare 
The  dance,  which  conquest  aye  demands ; 

The  scalps,  suspended  in  the  air. 
Call  shouts  exultant  from  the  bands. 

Why  stands  that  stake  in  the  esplanade  ? 

Why  piled  those  faggots  near  and  high  ? 
They  bind  the  thongs  from  osiers  made 

Around  that  brave  condemned  to  die  ! 

Wildly  they  move  in  triumphal  dance 
Circling  they  wave  on  high  their  arms  ; 

Now  back  they  bound  and  again  advance 
Invoking  their  gods  with  bloody  charms. 

The  victim  cool,  defiant  stands. 

Nor  a  sigh  escapes,  nor  a  look  of  grief; 

Calm  he  surveys  the  exultant  throng. 

Nor  asks  from  his  torturers  hope  or  relief ! 

His  voice  awakes  in  warlike  song; 

Hear,  hear!  he  recounts  the  lowas  slain. 
Sneers  at  his  captors;  tells  them  they  belong 

With  squaws  in  the  caves,  or  the  deer  on  the  plain ! 

With  rage  they  tear  his  naked  flesh. 

Not  a  pain,  not  a  throb  he  seems  to  feel ; 

With  countenance  calm  as  the  waves  at  rest, 
His  body  receives  the  gashing  steel. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  189. 

Amid  this  wild  and  sickening  scene, 
From  her  cave  retreat  appears  Irene; 
Her  soul  by  pitying  impulse  moved, 
Serene  and  warm  because  it  loved^ 
Loved  not  as  blossoms  smile  in  dreams, 
Loved  not  as  sophists  love  their  schemes, 
Loved  not  as  envy  loves  to  name 
The  pure  with  breathings  that  defame ; 
Not  as  disputants  love  the  feud, 
Loved  not  as  warriors  imbued 
With  hope,  vain  glory's  prize  to  gain, 

Nor  yet  as  love  the  proud  and  vain ; 

Loved  not  as  those  who  fain  would  hold 

In  death  the  miser's  grasp  of  gold  ! 

But  with  a  love  more  near  allied 

To  Him  from  out  whose  spear-pierced  side 

Gushed  forth  the  living  emblem  tide  : 

She  loved  the  soul,  the  undying  mind, 

And  would  the  fettered  form  unbind  ; 

And  now  she  pleads  with  proud  Segarae 

To  stop  the  kindling  of  the  flame. 

To  spare  the  victim,  set  him  free. 

Prerogative  of  majesty ! 

She  stands  before  ihe  frowning  king 

Like  flowers  'neath  sturdy  trees  in  spring. 

Pale,  delicate,  and  trembling  there, 

The  spirit-bloom  of  Heaven's  pure  air! 

All  sounds  are  hushed,  the  tribes  draw  near. 

They  fain  the  White  Dove's  words  would  hear. 

She  speaks:  "A  powerful  chief  is  great  Segamet 
His  warriors;  brave  have  overthrown  their  foes; 


I90  EPIC  POEM. 

The  Sioux  have  fled  far,  far  away 
Among  the  northern  hills !     Their  arrows  now 
Disturb  the  braves  no  more!     'Twas  Manito, 
The  Mighty  God,  who  gave  this  victory  to 
The  Iroquois — 'twas  he  struck  down  their  foes. 
But  still  a  shade  falls  on  the  nation's  joy  : 
They  mourn  their  brothers  slain,  and  yet  believe 
Them  gone  to  live  beyond  the  hills,  away 
To  hunting-grounds  more  fair  than  these,  that  land 
Where  all  the  good  find  rest !     The  Manito 
Has  left  one  captive  with  the  lowas. 
Behold  him  there! — no  bow,  no  tomahawk! 
His  hands  are  bound ;  his  feet  are  fettered  close ; 
All  helpless  as  a  child  he  stands  before  Segame! 
But  hark  !  the  voice  of  God  !     He  tries  the  love 
That  burns  within  the  breast  of  our  brave  chief  j 
That  God  who  speaks — the  Mighty  One — 
The  Spirit  of  the  forest  and  the  streams, 
Who  clothes  the  vales  in  green,  is  merciful 
To  all  his  enemies  !     Will  not  Segame 
Be  merciful  to  his  ?  to  one  weak  man, 
Already  bleeding,  faint,  and  like  a  child  ? 
'Twill  not  bring  back  the  spirits  of  the  dead 
To  light  the  pile  around  the  suffering  foe ; 
Ah,  no  !  but  mercy,  e'en  that  mercy  which 
Segame  would  show  to  any  wounded  dove, 
Now  calls  aloud  to  spare  the  captive  one. 
To  bind  and  heal  his  wounds,  to  send  him  back 
To  greet  his  broken  tribe,  and  tell  them  all 
•    The  story  of  your  love  !     What  brothers'  hearts 
Shall  thrill  as  he  recounts  this  day's  release  ! 
A  brother  is  Segame  !     And  O  what  tears 


MISSION  BRIDE.  191 

Shall  bathe  his  wayworn  face  as  he  shall  press 
His  anxious  wife  to  his  love-throbbing  breast ! 
Segame,  too,  loves  his  wife !     And  then  behold 
In  that  lone  cot,  a  father  sits  in  silent  grief! 
He  mourns  him  dead  !  a  father  is  Segame  ! 
Here  stands  his  manly  boy ;  if  he  were  bound 
Among  his  nation's  foes,  and  then  those  foes 
Should  send  him  back  alive  !     Oh,  brave  Segame! 
Look  on  your  boy  and  set  your  victim  free  : 
So  when  Segame  himself  shall  go,  and  live 
In  those  bright  hunting-grounds  above,  where  all 
His  fathers  are,  he  will  rejoice  to  meet  the  man 

His  mercy  spared Let  mercy  then 

Unbind  the  captive,  bind  his  wounds,  and  heal 
His  tortured  flesh,  and,  God-like,  send  him  to 
His  friends." 

The  throng  in  silence  heard ;  then  spake  Segame  : 
"  The  maiden's  heart  is  good — Great  Manito 
Has  never  told  Segame  to  spare  his  foe ! 
The  spirits  of  the  slain  demand  his  death. 
Owasso  I  light  the  pile — we  must  not  wait — 
The  Iroquois  beyond  tlie  stream. 
Where  winter  never  walks  among  the  trees, 
Now  look  to  see  the  speedy  flames  arise." 

The  boy  advances  to  his  father's  side, 

And  bows  in  awe  before  the  powerful  chief; 

His  eyes  rest  on  that  stern,  unpitying  face, 

In  filial  love,  in  trustfulness  of  youth, 

In  gentleness — a  mien  which  thus  could  dare 

A  martyr's  death  :   His  words  are  few  but  firm. 

"  Segame,  my  loving  sire  !   I  cannot  seal 


192  EPIC  POEM. 

The  death  of  yon  brave  suffering  foe,  nor  light 
His  funeral  pyre !     I  love  all  men — I  hear 
A  voice  which  sternly  bids  me  spare, 
Save  life,  and  not  to  kill :  the  Son  of  God, 
The  friend  of  all,  commands  us  not  to  hate, 
But  love  and  bless  our  enemies  !     Segame 
Will  not  compel  Owasso." 

While  darkly  frowns  the  monarch's  brow, 
He  waves  his  hand,  the  ctiieftains  bow. 
Displeasure  flashes  and  retires 
To  burn  within  like  smothered  fires, 
And  secret  doubts  his  thoughts  engage 
To  calm  the  zeal  of  savage  rage : 
No  word  is  heard — his  magic  hand 
Directs  a  brave  of  the  war-plumed  band. 
And  angry  flames  from  the  faggot  pile 
In  wrathful  curls  shoot  up  the  while ; 
And  the  death-song  rises  round  the  brave 
Whose  ashes  soon  shall  be  his  grave. 

Time  rolls  along  in  full  release 

From  chains  of  war,  and  genial  peace, 

Again  the  missionary  cheers 

And  smiles  upon  the  pioneers  : 

The  "  Woodvale"  hamlet  with  its  rude 

Church  dwelling  is  with  life  imbued. 

With  brighter  love,  with  patient  toil. 

And  hope  and  plenty  bless  the  soil : 

The  Christian  watchmen  freely  sow 

The  seeds  of  truth  which  spring  and  grow; 

Dark  minds  begin  to  hail  the  ray 


MISSION  BRIDE.  193 

Of  spiritual  light  like  dawning  day, 
Though  kindling  faith  scarce  yet  requires 
The  healing  balm,  their  crude  desires, 
Like  embryos  within  the  breast, 
Are  living,  healthy,  unconfest. 
The  gentle  teacher,  forest-bound. 
Still  labors  near  the  "  maple  mound," 
Where  children  come  in  dusky  throngs 
And  learn,  with  truth,  sweet  Saxon  songs; 
The  hours  of  sacred  time  invite 
Within  an  atmosphere  of  light 
A  gathering  host  in  meek  approve, 
Eager  to  hear  the  voice  of  love  ; 
Maidens  are  there  whose  flowing  hair 
Is  free  as  breezes  of  the  air, 
Dark  as  the  mountain  eagle's  crest, 
Vailing  a  full,  expansive  chest ; 
Maidens  who  love  the  warrior's  smile. 
Free  from  deceit  and  flattery's  wile. 
Who  love  the  flowers  nor  heed  the  thorn, 
Like  tender  hands  to  luxury  born  ; 
Who  sing  wild  songs  in  their  childhood's  tongue, 
And  careless  rove  the  groves  among : 
O  the  Indian  maid  is  free  and  bold, 
Her  heart  unbought  by  pride  or  gold  ! 
Stern  warriors  hear  the  preacher's  word, 
Their  tearless  souls  are  strangely  stirred ; 
Barbarian  faith  its  weakness  learned. 
Like  trees  o'erbent  but  not  upturned; 
And  truth  grew  stronger  every  hour, 
Fed  by  the  Spirit's  growing  power. 
A  child  beside  a  placid  lake 
'3 


194  EPIC  POEM. 

With  pebbles  may  the  surface  break 

In  eddying  circles,  widening  more, 

Till  bounded  by  the  distant  shore; 

So  spreads  the  heaven-descending  flame 

O'er  hill,  o'er  dale,  and  flowery  plain  ; 

And,  circling  on,  its  mild  control 

Softens  the  chillness  of  the  soul. 

Thus  hope  their  labors  cheer  and  bless 

Within  this  Western  wilderness. 

And  Stations*  near  with  thanks  desire 

To  see  this  all-pervading  fire 

Which  burns  the  forest  to  illume, 

Like  Horeb's  bush,  but  not  consume : 

They  come  to  see  the  "  Dove  of  Spring," 

To  hear  her  children  strangely  sing. 

And  wondering,  see  a  light  divine 

In  every  face,  appears  to  shine  ! 

They  come  to  hear  the  pastor's  tale — 

The  "  God-man  "  of  the  forest  vale. 

Who  talks  of  heaven  and  fain  describes 

Pure  love  among  the  Indian  tribes : 

As  winds  the  mighty  trees  may  bend 

And  with  their  spreading  strength  contend, 

So  words  of  truth  their  power  express. 

To  swell  and  stir  this  wilderness. 

Soul-moved,  the  neighboring  tribes  convene 
In  prayer  upon  the  Woodvale  green. 
And  dawning  hope  within  them  burned 
As  from  the  man  of  God  they  learned 
Of  One  who  Death's  dark  fetters  broke, 

*  Missionary  Posts. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  195 

And  of  salvation  kindly  spoke  ; 

Who  told  of  a  bright  and  sunny  sky 

Where  none  may  weep,  where  none  may  die  ; 

Where  the  good  and  just  shall  ever  dwell, 

Where  no  graves  are  made, where  none  say  "farewell!" 

When  their  voices  ceased  from  holy  song 

An  awe  seemed  to  fall  on  the  dusky  throng, 

And  a  voice  broke  forth  whose  thrillins:  tones 

Were  like  the  wierd  and  solemn  moans 

Of  lofty  pines  in  their  native  groves, 

When  the  wind-god's  wrath  his  chariot  moves : 

'Twas  a  "  prophet's  "  voice  the  silence  broke, 

And  like  the  strong  majestic  oak, 

He  stood,  athlete,  his  visage  bare, 

While  light  and  shade  seemed  to  struggle  there; 

Calm  as  an  isle  on  a  summer  sea. 

Conscious  of  strength,  dignate  and  free, 

Like  a  star  in  twilight's  misty  sky 

Was  "  Ontara"  the  brave — of  the  prophet's  eye! 

Mysterious,  shadowed  by  the  screen 

Of  a  clouded  mmd  and  yet  serene, 

Uncomprehending  solitude, 

With  superstition's  fire  imbued. 

Tenacious  of  its  baleful  rites. 

Rejecting  all  intrusive  lights; 

Hy  force  of  concentration  fraught 

With  subtle,  dark,  perverted  thought, 

Yet  undisguising,  frank  and  free, 

The  child  of  crude  sincerity. 

Such  was  the  seer  whose  presence  proud 

Hoth  awed  and  cheered  the  listening  crowd. 


196  EPIC  POEM. 

"  Brothers  !  the  red  man's  home  is  happy — herds 

Of  buffaloes  roam  near  his  hunting-path, 

Inviting  him  to  eat  the  choicest  flesh — 

They  wait  his  arrows  in  the  river  vales — 

The  deer  starts  up  before  him  in  the  shades — 

The  beaver  and  the  otter  give  their  furs 

To  chase  away  the  winter's  cold.     To  cheer 

His  heart  the  prairies  bloom — the  showers  descend 

Upon  the  thirsty  earth  !     The  fragrant  wings 

Of  evening  air  perfume  his  lodge — he  lays 

Him  down  to  sleep,  safe  in  the  mighty  arms 

Of  the  Great  Spirit — he  dreams  of  rivers  bright, 

Of  sunny  plains.     The  ages  long  have  blessed 

His  happy  lot !     And  when  his  white  head  turns 

To  see  the  face  of  his  Great  Father,  when 

He  shall  cross  the  stream,  beyond  the  sunset  dim. 

To  those  green  hunting-grounds,  whose  trees  ne'er  drop 

Their  leaves,  his  bones  within  cur  valley  rest 

In  peace,  and  birds  sing  o'er  his  grave.     Why  turn 

You  now  from  hope  which  cheered  your  father's  life, 

And  calmed  his  soul  in  death  ?  The  white  man  speaks 

Of  other  hope — a  Manito  whose  son 

Is  God !     It  may  be  true,  but  'tis  not  ours  t 

Another,  race  of  men  are  these — in  form. 

In  color,  habits  and  religion — they 

Are  not  our  brothers !     We  will  love  them  still — 

Our  land  shall  feed,  our  springs  shall  slake  their  thirst — 

But  hark !  the  voice  beyond  the  hills  !     It  calls 

As  birds  of  gentlest  note  their  mate  !     Your  sires, 

Across  the  vales,  beyond  the  cloud-vailed  hills, 

Now  call  you  back ;  and  Manito  speaks  out 

From  fire-wreathed  clouds — in  rolling  floods,  which  fly 


MISSION   BRIDE.  197 

And  leap  the  air — in  winds  which  swell,  and  surge, 
And  whirl  in  fearful  might — ay !  I  have  heard 
In  awful  thunder-tone,  rolling  beneath 
The  trembling  bars  of  earth,  his  dreadful  curse, 
Pronounced  on  those  who  turn  in  scorn  away 
From  his  long-tried  and  faithful  love !  " 

He  ceased  :  the  listening  throngs  are  thrilled 

As  when  seraphic  sounds  are  stilled. 

When  music  gives  a  calm  release; 

And  every  breathing  seemed  to  cease. 

Ontara  slowly  left  the  crowd 

Where  many  a  Christian  head  was  bowed. 

Reader,  from  this  wild  scene  away, 

In  mountain  shadows  let  us  stray. 

To  a  dark  and  sombre-shaded  dell 

Where  seems  to  brood  a  threatening  spell 

Of  coming  conflict,  like  the  hush 

Of  gathering  storms,  or  like  the  flush 

Preceding  passion's  tumult  wild, 

Where  hoary  bluffs  are  skyward  piled; 

Ve  who  can  love  the  solemn  wood. 

And  feel  the  power  of  solitude, 

Where  God  the  all-pervading  reigns,  • 

And  thought  is  free  from  mental  chains; 

Who,  in  the  breeze  that  sways  the  pine. 

Take  note  of  voice  and  breath  divine. 

Yon  path  pursue — 'tis  scarcely  seen — 

Embowered  in  struggling  wreaths  of  green. 

Proceeding  slowly,  muse,  and  tread 

O'er  vanquished  trunks,  moss-grown  and  dead ; 

Bend  back  the  boughs,  no  sunbeam  dwells 


.  198      •  EPIC  POEM. 

Within  these  barricaded  cells — 
Dim  forest  halls  where  dryads  dance, 
And  elfins  court  their  changing  glance — 
Deep,  deep,  descending,  dim  and  drear, 
Ontara's  home  our  steps  are  near ! 
When  noon  is  at  its  height,  one  smile 
From  the  orb  of  day  these  shades  beguile — 
The  beam  is  now  on  the  Prophet's  hair, 
Behold,  he  stands  majestic  there! 
Like  one  bereft,  whose  memory  dwells 
In  its  murmuring  heart,  like  sighing  shells : 
An  image  seems  to  move  his  brain ; 
"  I  must  see  the  pale-faced  maid  again  : 
Whence  came  this  bird  of  tender  wing? 
Her  voice  is  like  the  sigh  of  Spring ! 
She  breathes  upon  the  Indian  child. 
And  the  dim  young  heart,  by  nature  wild, 
Unused  to  smiles  and  gentle  love, 
Becomes  a  playmate  for  the  dove ! 
Great  Manito !  whence  comes  the  power 
Of  one  so  frail — the  pale-faced  flower  ?  " 
This  struggle  of  conflicting  thought, 
With  visions  of  the  past  inwrought. 
Burns  fierce  within  his  troubled  life — 
'Tis  undefined,  unfathomed  strife  ! 
Sadly  he  fails  to  comprehend 
The  waves  with  which  the  ether  blend — 
The  mortal  with  the  spiritual ;  there's 
A  ruffle  on  the  tide  that  bears 
His  thought  untutored  to  the  sea 
Of  wisdom's  grand  immensity  ; 
And  more  tumultuous  it  may  rise 
With  superstition's  sacrifice. 


MISSLON  BRIDE.  199. 

A  day  has  passed — another  scene 

Less  wild,  less  calm,  no  less  serene. 

Offers  a  story  for  our  page 

Which  many  a  wandering  thought  engage. 

There  enters  at  the  open  door 

Where  sunbeams  gild  the  leaf-strewn  floor, 

An  Indian  form — 'tis  none  but  he, 

The  Prophet,  stern,  and  strong,  and  free : 

His  dress  is  not  in  the  warrior's  guise, 

Unplumed  his  brow,  a  strange  device 

Of  quills  and  shells  adorn  his  breast. 

Which  swells  like  ocean's  deep  unrest. 

"  Maiden  !     Ontara  speaks  !     He  comes  in  peace ! 

The  White  Dove's  voice  stirs  all  the  forest  leaves — 

It  finds  the  Prophet's  home:   Her  smile  is  like 

The  evening  sun — its'rays  have  left  upon 

His  heart  a  shadow  dark.     Her  words  are  sought 

By  all  this  youthful  band — they  hear  her  tell 

Of  "  God  "  and  sing  of  "  Heaven  ?  "     Our  Manito 

Will  still  restrain  his  curse,  for  the  White  Dove 

Intends  no  ill ;  but  list !     With  sight  unvailed, 

I  see  a  cloud  around  her  way — licr  light 

Will  dim  !     Maiden  !   I  come,  thine  erring  feet 

To  warn  !  " — She  speaks — 

"  Ontara's  voice  is  kind,  his  heart  sincere  ; 

No  curse,  no  disappointment  need  I  fear 

\\"hile  dwells  in  Heaven  the  Son  of  Manito 

\\'ho  once  lived  on  this  earth — with  men  below! 

This  Son  of  God,  with  clear,  unfading  light. 

Makes  new  the  Indian's  heart,  his  home  more  bright ; 


200  EPIC  POEM. 

y^esus,  the  pure  and  holy,  is  his  name ; 

To  teach  these  Httle  ones  of  Him  I  came — 

They  hear  my  words,  and  happier  they  smile, 

No  angry  frowns  their  innocence  beguile  ; 

Will  not  Ontara  hear  the  simple  lays 

Of  those  young  hearts  attuned  to  Jesus'  praise  ?  " 

[TAe  Children  Sing\ 
SONG. 

"  Away  beyond  the  cloud — 
A  happy  land, 
Where  angels  sing  aloud, 

A  shining  band. 
The  Saviour  calls  to  me  : 
"  My  child,  I  come  to  thee; " 
From  sin  escape — O  flee 
To  Jesus'  arms  ! 

Yes,  in  that  happy  land 

I'll  make  my  home ; 
I'll  join  the  heavenly  band ; 

Jesus  says,  "  come." 
My  friends  I  there  descry — 
Beams  brightly  every  eye  ! 
Haste,  haste  i     O  let  us  fly 

To  Jesus'  arms ! 

"  The  cloud  grows  dark — the  '  White  Dove'  will  not  hear, 
The  winds  will  sweep — the  tender  flower  must  fall !  " 


MISSION  BRIDE.  201 

He  starts  with  rapid  pace — almost  with  wings — 
Within  the  wood  and  up  the  cliff  he  springs  ; 
Confusion,  perturbation  sways  his  mind — 
He  talks,  he  rushes  on,  invokes  the  wind, 
The  spirits  of  the  mounts  and  streams  ;  his  frown 
Darkens  the  rays  that  through  the  leaves  come  down; 
Yet  like  the  unpolished  diamond's  hidden  light 
Do  gleams  of  love  and  truth  flash  inly  bright ! 
Love !  love !     Fair  flitting  angel  of  the  heart ! 

When  Nature  seeks  her  mute  allies, 
Hast  thou  no  ma^ic,  no  controlling  art 

To  gild  anticipation's  skies  ? 
Must  she  whom  disappointment  marked  its  own, 

In  life's  first  joy-illusive  day, 
Find  no  return  of  happy  blossoms  flown? 

Shall  Hope  refuse  to  light  her  way  ? 
We  have  not  fathomed  all  the  inward  strife. 
Though  oft  the  screen  has  been  removed 
From  gentle,  earnest,  struggling,  varied  life. 

Of  being  loving,  being  loved! 
Though  isolated  from  the  world  refined. 

By  duty  severed  from  the  band 
Of  sympathetic,  warm,  congenial  mind 

That  dwell  in  her  fair  native  land, 
There  burns,  as  ever  in  the  soul  ©f  youth, 
A  flame  inherent  with  responsive  love, 
A.n  ideal  fervor  of  another's  tnith. 
Whose  sweet  suggestions  nought  can  move. 

Dark  rolled  the  clouds  beyond  the  hills, 
Silent  flowed  on  the  murmuring  rills ! 
The  sheeted  lightning's  varying  form 


202  EPIC  POEM. 

Gives  herald  of  approaching  storm ; 

And  now  repeated  o'er  the  lake 

Loud  peals  of  thunder  hoarsely  break, 

Vailing  its  sheen  with  shadows  dark, 

As  messengers  of  th'  electric  spark  : 

And  now  the  dashing  torrents  pour, 

Commingling  with  the  storm's  fierce  roar. 

While  sweeps  the  unrelenting  gale 

In  wrath  o'er  wood,  and  hill,  and  vale. 

'Mid  this  wild  scene  of  tempest  strife. 

Of  warring,  elemental  life, 

A  form,  unbowed,  unblenched  remains. 

While  all  the  prairies,  hills  and  plains. 

Flood-bathed  in  liquid  life  are  bowed, 

Inclosed  within  their  watery  shroud. 

His  arms  are  thrown  across  his  breast, 

As  if  to  bind  his  life's  unrest, 

While  worshiping  at  Nature's  court, 

Amid  her  wild,  untrammeled  sport. 

Why  lost  in  thought  the  Prophet  sage  ? 

What  does  his  anxious  soul  engage  ? 

Emotions,  superstitions  rife, 

Are  grappling  fierce  in  mental  strife, 

With  truth's  convictions,  spirit-given, 

Approved  by  God,  and  sent  from  heaven. 

He  starts;  a  spirit's  touch  it  seems 

Has  waked  him  from  his  stormy  dreams ; 

He'll  settle  all  this  vain  dispute  ! 

This  Christian  legend  he'll  refute. 

Lest  Manito  in  wrath  send  down 

His  curse,  or  slay  them  with  his  frown ! 

He'll  seek  the  Dove — the  pale-faced  maid, 


MISSION  BRIDE.  203 

And  lead  her  through  the  forest  glade 
To  that  dark,  realm  beneath  the  ground, 
Where  tones  unearthly,  deep,  profound, 
Have  thrilled  the  Prophet's  swelling  heart; 
Have  made  his  thought  the  counterpart 
Of  spirit,  mystery  and  power, 
In  Manito's  responsive  hour  ! 

Shadows  are  stealing,  longer  lines 
Creep  toward  the  East — the  sun  declines — 
The  prairie's  rainbow  hues  grow  dun — 
The  horizon  holds  its  purple  rim 
Around  a  dream- preparing  world, 
The  hamlet's  smoke  is  skyward  curled; 
The  whip-poor-will  attunes  his  note, 
Aromas  from  the  flower-cups  float. 
Irene  has  wandered  forth  to  share 
The  soft  enchantments  of  the  air  : 
The  beauteous  scene,  too  fair  to  last, 
Her  fancy  binds  to  the  dreamy  past 
With  subtle  links,  mysterious  wrought, 
In  the  hidden  chambers  of  her  thought ; 
Her  path  winds  towards  a  forest  rill 
Where  fays  their  nectar  cups  might  fill — 
Those  fabled  sprites,  reported  long 
To  live  on  air  and  breathe  in  song  ; 
Dim  shades  are  gathering  far  and  wide. 
More  cool  contracts  th'  a^'rial  tide, 
Our  fairy  sits  beside  the  stream 
Where  eddies  deep  absorb  the  gleam, 
And  shadows  well  defined  outsjjread 
From  boughs  dark-waving  overhead; 


204  EPIC  POEM. 

The  birds  last  lulling  notes  are  hushed ; 
The  tall  pale  grass  some  foot  has  brushed  ; 
Was  it  the  genius  of  the  glade  ? 
Ontara  stands  beside  the  maid  ! 
Irene  is  roused  from  this  pensive  mood 
As  by  the  voice  of  solitude ; 

Her  course  she  bends 
To  trace  the  path  that  homeward  tends, 
While  no  distrusting  fears  betide ; 
The  strange  companion  by  her  side 
In  silence  walks. 

They  reach  at  length  the  cheerful  cot, 
Her  mission  home,  an  humble  spot ; 
She  turns  to  bid  the  sage  "  good  night" 
Beneath  the  stars'  fraternal  light, 
With  sudden  impulse,  earnest,  strong, 
He  seeks  their  converse  to  prolong, 
While  he  a  story  shall  unvail,     , 
A  truth,  no  myth,  no  dreamy  tale — 
A  truth,  a  voice  from  Manito, 
Which  answers  from  the  earth  below ; 
Within,  a  dark,  a  wondrous  cave. 
Where  breaks  no  sound  of  life,  the  grave 
Of  noiseless  airs  and  waters  dim. 
Where  the  Spirit  often  speaks  to  him : 
If  she  will  seek  this  mystic  grot, 
And  list  in  that  deep  cloistered  3pot, 
The  whisper  and  the  thunder  sound, 
Far,  far  beneath  the  forest  ground. 
She  there,  herself  the  truth  may  hear, 
May  learn  the  Mighty  One  to  fear, 
And  leave  those  tales,  her  Gospel  plan. 


MISSION   BRIDE.  205 

The  legend  of  the  Saviour-Man  ! 

It  he  shall  fail  this  truth  to  show 

By  words  direct  from  Manito, 

He  will  her  simple  faith  receive, 

The  white  man's  God  will  then  believe  ! 

Astonishment  pervades  her  mind; 
Her  brief  reply  is  cautious,  kind; 
She'll  meet,  before  another  sun, 
Its  occidental  course  has  run, 
Ontara  in  the  forest  grove, 
And  give  refusal  or  approve. 

What  means  the  Indian's  strange  request  ? 
There's  honesty  within  his  breast. 
Fanatical,  but  deep  in  thought ; 
Earnest  and  glowing,  yet  untaught ; 
Respectful,  kind,  importunate, 
Unwise  'twill  be  if  she  create 
Distrust,  refusing  to  repair 
Within  that  realm  of  mystic  air ; 
There's  for  his  faith  some  normal  cause. 
Fulfillment  of  determined  laws; 
There  may  be  sound  of  falling  wave 
Remote,  unknown,  within  the  cave 
Of  some  weird  echo  may  perchance 
The  Prophet's  listening  soul  entrance  ; 
There  may  be  in  his  mind's  long  night 
A  quivering  of  the  Spirit's  light, 
And  should  she  now  refuse  to  go. 
It  might  destroy  the  heavenly  flow 
Of  that  pure  fountain  anc'  imjicl 


2o6  EPIC  POEM. 

A  darker  stream  its  hopes  to  quell ! 

She  has  no  fear  when  by  his  side, 

Believes  no  danger  will  betide 

The  venturous  journey  ;  she  may  prove 

The  fallacy  and  thus  remove 

The  vail  of  error,  and  unbind 

The  chains  around  his  vigorous  mind  ! 

While  musing  thus  a  silvery  cloud 

Draws  o'er  the  rising  moon  a  shroud, 

And  night  advancing  calms  the  thrill 

Of  active  life,  and  all  is  still. 

Her  spirit  hails  the  long  ago, 

"  Go  forth,  Irene,  to  duty  go," 

That  angel  mother's  soul  again. 

Persuasive  breathes  a  voiceless  strain : 

She  doubts  no  more — she  falters  not, 

Resolves  with  him  to  seek  the  grot ; 

Then,  safe  from  fears,  a  sweet  release. 

She  sleeps  beneath  the  shades  of  peace. 

'Tis  Autumn  :  Mild  and  clear  arose 

The  morning  sun;  soft  tints  of  rose 

And  blue,  uniting  in  the  West 

Adorn  it  with  a  purple  crest : 

While  wasting  dews  and  flower-sweets  blend, 

Our  maiden  with  her  trusty  friend 

Are  found  upon  their  forest  way. 

Varied  with  ferns,  or  blossoms  gay, 

Where  prairies  insulate  the  wood, 

Where  life  is  free  in  solitude. 

Where  bird  and  beast  in  wildness  roam, 

And  streams  eccentric  sing  and  foam. 


MISSION   BRIDE.  207 

Four  days  they  journeyed  through  the  wild ; 

Each  night  Ontara  faggots  piled] 

Whose  cheering  blaze  dispersed  the  gloom, 

And  checked  the  owl's  dolorous  tune ; 

A  light  which  bade  the  wolf  be  still, 

Or  howl  his  watch  on  the  distant  hill : 

At  midnight  when  the  panther's  screams 

Disturbed  her  half-remembered  dreams, 

Or  the  wild-cat  broke  the  stilly  air, 

Like  some  lone  goblin  of  despair, 

Irene  upon  her  couch  of  boughs 

Would  from  her  dreamy  slumbers  rouse  ; 

Then  conscious  of  her  safe  repose. 

Again  her  willing  eyelids  close. 

And  fearless  in  the  darkness  sleep 

Till  sunbeams  through  the  shadows  creep. 

Morning — bright  minister  of  truth  ! 

There's  health  and  beauty  in  thy  youth ; 

No  hand  more  fresh  and  fair  than  thine 

Could  Peace  desire  to  deck  her  shrine  ! 

Progressing  on  tlieir  cheerful  way, 

They  reached  a  bluff  at  noon  of  day. 

Where  floating  by  the  river's  side 

A  birch  canoe  was  safely  tied  : 

Upward,  slow-gliding  on  the  stream. 

When  slanting  fell  the  sunset's  beam, 

They  landed  near  the  lonely  grot — 

A  rare,  a  wild,  deserted  spot ! 

Huge  trees,  gray  angulated  rocks. 

Fragments  of  post-diluvian  shocks, 

(inarled  trunks  uptorn  by  Borean  powers 

Green  matted  brush  and  straggling  flowers, 


2o8  EPIC  POEM. 

O'erhanging  vines  and  lichens  red, 

With  mosses  Uke  crimped  emerald  spread ; 

From  human  haunts  though  far  and  lone, 

Their  ears  still  catch  the  life-like  tone, 

"The  bird  of  many  voices"*  sung, 

The  jay's  shrill  note  through  shadows  rung, 

The  oriole's  enchanting  lay, 

Uniting  with  the  red-bird  gay. 

Composed  an  Orphean  roundelay. 

We  must  not  tarry  here,  he  said. 

And  back  the  boughs  Ontara  laid  ; 

Irene  beheld  the  cavern's  gloom, 

It  might  be  her  untimely  tomb : 

Then  tremblings  o'er  her  being  crept, 

While  awful  mysteries  briefly  kept 

Suggestions  of  a  fearful  power 

For  the  undeveloped  coming  hour. 

Clambering  adown  the  slowly  shelving  plane. 
They  enter  now  the  still  and  dim  domain, 
By  Hght  deserted;  as  the  rushing  breath 
Strikes  coldly  on  their  brows,  a  thought  of  death 
Sends  through  the  soul  a  corresponding  chill, 
Reacting  soon  to  give  a  feverish  thrill : 
And,  till  the  subtle  force  Jehovah  wields 
Plows  up  again  those  subterranean  fields. 
The  torch  alone,  upheld  aloft,  displays 
The  arch,  the  handiwork  of  unknown  days. 
A  page  chronology  may  never  claim. 
But  on  that  lofty  frieze  behold  its  Maker's  name ! 

*   "The  American  bird  of  many  voices  that  laughs  at  the  elo- 
quence of  man." — JVi/son's  Tales  of  the  Borders  and  of  Scotland, 


MISSION  BRIDE.  209 

No  azure-beaming,  silver-shrouding  skies 
Sheds  lustre  on  their  path  ;  ungemmed  it  lies 
Where  never  springs  the  dew-delighting  grass, 
The  rainbow's  emerald  beauty  to  surpass ; 
No  sound  of  lowing  herd,  no  warblers  song, 
No  stir  of  breeze,  no  hum  of  insect  throng  ; 
Sound — sound  !  there  is  no  sound — 'tis  death. 
The  stillness  that  succeeds  departing  breath : 
Yet,  do  their  hearts  beat  strong  and  noiseless  here, 
And  every  pause  awakens  trembling  fear. 
Is  danger  there  ?     No  spectre  haunts  the  eye. 
The  shadow  of  no  monster  they  descry, 
While  all  along  their  rocky  winding  way 
Bold  fragments — relics  huge — their  eyes  survey, 
Vast  broken  column,  dark,  worn  battlement, 
Which  struggled,  while  the  shaft  of  ages  spent 
Its  purpose,  with  the  constant  flowing  wave, 
Extending  slow  the  regions  of  the  cave; 
These,  once  the  unbroken  granite's  high  compeer. 
Like  giants  vanquished  now  lie  prostrate  here! 
Are  these  the  symbols  of  his  matchless  power, 
"The  Wonderful"  who  reared  the  mountain's  tower! 
God's  autographs  upon  the  mystic  scroll 
Which  waits  in  judgment  on  the  human  soul! 
Which  draped  in  night  support  these  rayless  halls 
Where  sprites  unearthly  hold  their  festivals ! 
Ah !  what  response  shall  e'er  the  truth  disclose 
Which  Time  has  locked  within  his  death-repose  ! 
Death  !  O  shivering  dread!  amid  such  gloom! 
A  doubly  mournful  death,  with  such  a  tomb  I 
Kence,  dreadful  thought !    Ye  fancies  vain  retire. 
Enkindle  not  the  mind's  consuming  fire ! 
14 


2IO  EPIC  POEM. 

On  they  proceed — descend,  diverge  or  climb, 
Losing  all  common  note  of  passing  time  ; 
And  life  might  deem  its  earthly  measure  run, 
With  Night's  grim  empire  in  the  soul  begun ! 
Their  torches  now  diffuse  a  spectral  gleam 
Upon  a  dark,  a  still,  Lethean  stream 
Which  flows  below  their  path  as  though  its  glide — 
Was  from  the  realm  of  Hades,  terrified ! 
Embarking  in  a  low  canoe,  they  pass 
Slowly  upon  this  shaded  sea  of  glass ; 
Within  high  mural  walls,  stern,  damp,  and  gray, 
A  hundred  fathoms  'neath  the  realm  of  day ! 

Our  travellers  reach  a  pebbly  strand, 

Where  from  its  curving,  surface-land, 

Two  branches  hence  the  way  assumes. 

Through  higher-arching  rocky  rooms  ; 

And  where  these  mystic  arms  disjoin, 

To  differing  halls  afar  incline, 

A  huge  stalactite,  roughly  grooved. 

Has  age  on  age  remained  unmoved, 

A  mile-stone  for  the  spectral  gnomes 

Who  sought  v/ithin  their  cavern  homes, 

VVhen  dark  disorder,  stern  and  grim, 

Sent  forth  a  wild,  chaotic  hymn. 

Ontara  pauses  at  its  base ; 

A  deep,  strong  purpose  in  his  face 

Directs  the  maiden  there  to  rest, 

And  list  the  wondrous  spirit-test : 

Then,  on  the  shaft  one  hand  he  lays, 

And  as  his  eyelids  upward  raise, 

His  voice,  though  strong,  and  firm,  and  clear. 


iMISSlON   BRIDE.  211 

Commingles  cadences  of  fear. 

He  speaks:  "Art  thou  great  Manito?" 

The  echo  answers :  "  Manito." 

Assurance  gained,  he  speaks  again, 

And  louder  swells  the  inquiring  strain  : 

"  Is  the  Christian's  God  a  foolish  dream  ?  " 

"  The  Christian's  God  a  foolish  dream." 

And  now  a  whisper  moves  his  tongne, 

Softly  those  far,  far  aisles  among, 

The  gentle  answer  comes  in  strains 

Ot  wild,  mysterious  refrains  : 

"  Is  the  story  of  the  Saviour  false  ?" 

"  The  story  of  the  Saviour  false" 

The  prophet  now  more  freely  breathes, 

And  firmer  still  his  dream  believes. 

Exultant  brief  the  silence  breaks, 

"  The  White  Dove  hears — the  Mighty  speaks  ! " 

He  waits  to  hear  the  maid's  reply, 

And  seeks  conviction  in  her  eye, 

While  she  perplexed  with  doubt,  e'en  now 

Would  fain  proceed,  but  knows  not  how 

To  break  the  spell  and  not  unbind 

A  fearful  tempest  in  his  minrl ; 

She  steps,  upl)orne  by  heavenly  power 

Beside  the  carbonated  tower, 

And,  as  the  prophet,  invocates 

The  truth  which  to  this  test  relates  : 

"Art  thou  the  Christian's  God  ?  " 

The  answer  comes:  "  The  Christian's  God" 
Again  she  speaks  in  louder  tone  ; 
"  Is  there  of  gods  one,  only  one  ?  "  • 

The  voice  is  heard,  responsive  plain  : 


212  EPIC  POEM. 

"  Of  gods  one,  otily  one"     Again, 

She  whispers  :  "  Is  the  Saviour  true  ?  " 

Distinctive  sounds,  "  the  Saviour  true" 

The  test  is  passed  :  they  hence  retire; 

His  eyes  retain  a  wavering  fire, 

Which  as  their  orbs  incessant  roll, 

Proclaim  his  agitated  soul : 

While  o'er  their  way,  dark,  subterrene, 

They  leave  this  strange,  this  thrilling  scene. 

As  from  the  cavern  they  emerge, 
The  sunbeams  o'er  the  eastern  verge 
Light  up  the  vista  of  the  wood 
And  radiate  the  solitude. 
While  Nature's  charms  own  treble  power 
In  that  appreciative  hour. 
Bewildered  by  the  darkness'  loss, 
Irene  sinks  on  a  couch  of  moss, 
And  rests  her  head  upon  her  hand 
At  wearied  nature's  mute  command. 
Stern,  fixed,  unyielding,  grave  and  proud, 
The  seer  remained,  his  head  unbowed, 
His  eye  bent  on  the  maid,  till  thought 
Grew  softened,  by  the  gentler  taught : 
And  now  he  speaks — his  accents  move, 
And  seem  akin  to  those  of  love. 

"  The  eagle  bold  may  list  a  voice  that  flows 
Like  Minnehaha's  silver-singing  tide, 

As  soft  as  Cantantowit's*  hand  bestows 

The  Indian  summer  when  the  streams  are  wide." 

7- 

*  The  southwest  wind. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  213 

Like  whispering  echoes  that  unbar 
The  gloom  of  solitudes  afar, 
Invited  thus,  sincerity 
Spoke  gently  in  her  utterance  free. 

"  Ontara  knows  the  failure  of  the  test, 
And  doubt  is  striving  in  his  anxious  breast; 
But  list,  my  friend,  that  voice,  so  plain,  so  clear, 
Was  but  your  own  brought  back  upon  your  ear; 
Thus  any  tone  would  roll  its  numbers  round, 
And  echo  back  within  its  depths  profound  : 
Tliey  were  not  words  of  God,  yet  they  declare 
His  power  is  there,  is  here,  everywhere  !  " 

These  thoughts  remain  in  her  listener's  breast, 

As  embryos  still  but  living  rest; 

And,  when  the  shadows  shun  the  day. 

They  are  marshalled  on  their  homeward  way. 

Ontara  moody  strode  along, 

The  maiden's  voice  broke  forth  in  song — 

A  song  of  home — of  the  bright  brief  past. 

Ere  her  childhood's  sky  was  overcast ; 

Her  notes  at  first  were  warbled  slow. 

And  then,  as  if  some  higher  thought 

Her  sensibilities  inwrought, 

More  loud  and  free  rang  out  the  sound 

In  the  choral's  rich,  melodious  bound. 

Till  the  floating  cadence,  distant,  clear, 

Fell  softly  on  a  fainting  ear  : 

"  Do  I  hear  an  angel's  rapturous  tone  ?  " 

Murmured  a  lone  and  dying  one. 

The  strain  has  ceased :  still  on  they  bear. 

Our  travellers  fear  no  danger  there ! 


214  EPIC  POEM. 

But  see,  they  pause  beside  a  rill, 

There's  a  sudden  silence,  all  is  still ; 

What  chains  Ontara's  flashing  eyes  ? 

The  mute  Irene — what  her  surprise  ? 

Is  the  panther  there  crouched  low  to  slay 

His  unoffending,  helpless  prey  ? 

Or  human  foe  has  the  prophet  seen, 

While  his  thought  reverts  to  the  fair  Irene  ? 

Ah  !  mark  their  hurried  movements  now, 

Behold  the  maiden  lowly  bow 

Beside  a  frail  and  wasted  form. 

Whose  nerveless  hands,  with  life  still  warm, 

Upon  her  quiet  bosom  prest, 

Adds  a  soothing  sense  to  its  feverish  rest. 

Irene  first  breaks  the  silence  dread, 

"  O  wherefore  here  ?     Thou  art  not  dead  ! 

Say,  speak  fair  one !     Has  a  treacherous  hand 

Conveyed  thee  away  from  thy  native  land  ?  " 

"  There's  a  cottage  near — O  take  me  there — 

I  wandered  too  far,  I  could  not  bear 

The  gentle  walk,  and  laid  me  down  ; 

My  life  is  spent,  I  am  almost  gone." 

That  scene  was  strange  and  dark  to  him  ; 

He  watched  the  twain,  while  grew  more  dim 

The  twilight's  leaf-embroidered  vail, 

And  the  gems  of  night  were  glistening  pale  : 

Now  bends  the  prophet's  athlete  form 

To  bind  each  dusky,  sinewy  arm 

Around  the  fragile  stricken  girl. 

While  toys  the  air  with  each  soft  curl 

That  backward  falls  from  her  classic  head, 

And  bear  her  on  with  softened  tread. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  215 

Within  a  cot  with  vines  ornate, 
^^'here  kind  affections  gently  wait. 
There  were  gathered  round  that  lowly  bed 
Stern  forms  and  rude ;  each  savage  head 
With  its  broad  dark  front  unyielding  stood, 
Like  the  minor  oaks  of  the  skirting  wood. 
If  passion  was  there  it  showed  no  trace 
In  the  lineaments  of  the  warrior  face  ; 
And  the  Indian  matron  calmly  sat 
Watching  the  maiden's  closing  fate. 
Her  eyes  survey  the  mingled  band, 
She  faintly  moves  her  bloodless  hand, 
Calling  her  stranger  sister  near. 
To  breathe  a  tale  in  her  pitying  ear. 
Irene  bends  o'er  the  suff"erer's  head, 
Solemn  as  though  the  soul  had  fled. 
While  those  lips  of  beauty,  trembling,  pale, 
In  accents  faint  disclose  a  tale 
Of  wandering,  of  hope,  of  suffering  long, 
Of  holy  love,  of  faith  grown  strong. 
"  Maiden,  I  know  not  who  thou  art. 
But  thine  I  feel  is  a  gentle  heart; 
Like  my  own  lost  sister  dear,  you  seem — 
How  strange  !     How  strangely  like  a  dream ! 
Sweet  Bertha  died  'neath  the  skies  of  France, 
When  the  vales  were  green  in  the  vernal  glance ; 
And  exiled  from  our  vine-wreathed  land, 
My  parents  joined  a  hopeful  band — 
They  escaped  the  surging  ocean's  wave, 
But  in  the  river  found  a  grave. 
Almost  in  sight  of  that  curving  sweep 
Of  its  rising  western  bank,  where  deej) 


2i6  EPIC  POEM. 

The  waters  roll  their  current  round, 
By  a  trading-post,  near  a  lofty  mound.* 
While  clinging  to  a  floating  oar, 
I  reached  the  distant  river-shore, 
But  yet  no  trace  two  years  have  brought 
To  soothe  my  boding,  anxious  thought. 
Some  hunters  of  this  tribe  were  near, 
Whose  kindness  soon  dispelled  my  fear, 
Administered  to  my  relief. 
And  brought  me  to  their  friendly  chief. 
These  people,  wild,  and  strange,  and  rude, 
Are  kind  amid  their  solitude  ; 
Nay,  these,  the  dwellers  of  this  cot. 
Their  superstitions  all  forgot, 
Have  sought  forgiveness  from  above. 
And  found  the  peace  of  a  Saviour's  love : 
But  life  recedes — its  early  close 
Whispers  to  me  of  sweet  repose. 
While  memories  flash  their  lingering  spell 
O'er  my  beautiful  past  I  loved  too  well ! 
I  die  in  peace  :  if  these  friends  are  saved, 
'Tis  the  highest  boon  my  soul  has  craved : 
From  this  lonely  wild  I  must  soon  away — 
Tell  me,  dear  maiden,  canst  thou  pray  ?  " 
She  kneeled,  and  from  her  lips  there  broke 
Accents  that  first  in  heaven  awoke ; 
Unwavering,  forcive,  sweetly  clear. 
That  prayer  fell  on  the  spell-bound  ear, 
And  electrified  the  Indian  soul 
With  new,  divine,  complete  control. 
The  prophet  gazed  with  awe  that  proved 
*  The  locality  of  St.  Louis. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  217 

How  the  dying  scene  his  soul  had  moved, 

And  hung  upon  the  whispering  breath 

That  murmured  Christian  hope  in  death, 

Till  borne  upon  the  eternal  tide, 

The  last  receding  tone  had  died. 

Expanding  to  a  wider  scope 

Of  newly  quickened,  heavenly  hope. 

The  soul,  full-plumed  with  angel  might, 

Its  transit  waits  from  earthly  night; 

While  the  lip's  last  quiver,  eyes'  strange  gleam, 

.A.S  though  the  long-expected  beam 

Flashed  down  to  meet  it  from  the  skies. 

And  moveless — dead — the  pale  one  lies. 

Softly  the  forest  turf  is  laid 
On  the  resting-place  of  the  lonely  maid ; 
While  wildly  floats  an  Indian  song 
From  the  mourners  of  that  solemn  throng. 
And  the  homeless  one  is  left  to  sleep 
Where  flickering  light  and  shadow  creep 
F'rom  year  to  year,  from  spring  to  spring. 
Where  no  loved  one's  hand  may  ever  bring 
His  wreath  of  flowers,  his  urn  of  tears, 
Till  the  resurrection  morn  appears. 

Three  days  have  told  their  beading  hours, 

No  cloud  o'er  the  sea  of  sunset  towers, 

And  in  the  twilight's  gentle  gloam 

Our  travellers  each  have  found  their  home. 

Irene  responds  to  duty's  call. 

As  though  the  chimes  ol  a  festival 

Gave  dancing  measure  to  her  feet. 


2i8  EPIC  POEM. 

And  made  her  loving  labors  sweet. 

But,  struggles  deep,  a  war  of  thought 

Has  in  the  prophet's  being  wrought 

Necessity,  whose  full  demand 

Must  swell — resurge,  must  roll  expand, 

As  swells  the  pent-up  clamorous  tide. 

Till  bursting  free,  and  wild,  and  wide. 

It  overleaps  each  barrier  rock 

And  scatters  far  its  vapory  flock. 

Rushing  to  valley  freedom,  where, 

Seaward  its  sunnier  waters  bear. 

His  lonely  home  has  lost  its  power 

To  satisfy  this  trying  hour, 

And  again  he  leaves  its  sheltering  shade 

To  commune  with  her — the  Christian  maid. 

"White  Dove!  Ontara  speaks  again.     His  heart 

Is  moved.     There's  light  and  darkness  in  his  soul. 

The  Indian's  Manito  no  more  looks  down  ; 

The  breeze  that  stirs  the  pine  is  not  his  voice — 

The  sunshine  of  the  skies  is  not  his  smile — 

The  music  of  harmonious  waters  not 

His  song !     Ontara's  pathway  through  the  wood, 

'Tis  like  the  way  of  death  !     Pray,  maiden,  pray  ! 

The  Saviour  is  thy  friend.     'Twas  he  who  broke 

The  spell  within  the  cavern  wild,  and  gave 

To  nature's  voice  a  power,  which  spoke,  and  shamed 

The  prophets's  pride.     The  path  that  now  conducts 

Ontara's  steps  to  the  bright  land  is  dark,  from  thence 

No  hght  appears,  no  spirit-voices  call ; 

Ontara  trembles — lo !  a  sudden  light. 

Another  light,  half  dim,  half  clear,  flashes 


MISSION   BRIDE.  219 

Across  his  path.     Tis  from  the  Christian's  God ! 
'Twas  this  that  gave  the  dying  maiden  peace ! 
He  heard  thy  prayer !     Pray,  pray  again  !  " 

"  Yes,  brother,  I  will  pray,  and  you 
Must  ask  of  Jesus,  kind  and  true, 
Pardon  for  sins  we  all  possess, 
And  God  Ontara's  heart  will  bless. 
When  the  morrow's  hours  the  sun  has  told, 
And  evening  spreads  its  cloth  of  gold 
Around  his  nightly  parting  way. 
Return,  and  we  again  will  pray." 

The  morning  wakes  like  freedom's  voice, 

And  life,  and  love  anew  rejoice, 

While  autumn's  shortening  pathway  tells, 

W' ith  pensive  voice  of  its  past  farewells. 

Owasso  wanders  forth  to  greet 

His  teacher  with  an  oftermg  sweet. 

Of  blossom  wild  and  fragrant  bough. 

His  heart  absorbed,  he  knows  not  how  ; 

For  yet  the  mystery  of  life. 

Of  love's  development  and  strife. 

Has  ne'er  awakened,  keen,  defined. 

Insatiate  longings  in  his  mind; 

And  manhood's  dawning  promise  brings, 

Awaiting  near  with  latent  springs, 

A  higher  future,  marked  and  bold, 

By  superstition  uncontrolled. 

He  meets  her  where  the  brooklet  turns 

To  hide  itself  'neath  waving  ferns. 

And,  with  pleasure  beaming  in  his  face, 

Presents  the  flowers  with  rustic  grace. 


220  EPIC  POEM. 

The  day  declines;  the  children  gone, 

The  teacher,  musing,  sits  alone  : 

A  shadow  by  the  window  passed ; 

The  prophet's  presence,  brow  o'ercast, 

And  aspect  mild,  awakes  the  power 

Of  sympathy — the  present  hour 

Demands  her  faith.     She  kneels  in  prayer, 

As  gently  as  the  willows  bear 

Their  graceful  branches  down  to  earth. 

And  long  implores  the  spirit's  birth 

Of  that  sincere,  unlettered  mind, 

By  superstition  long  confined. 

Silent  they  parted,  but  the  glow 

Of  spirit-life,  its  heavenly  flow. 

Like  Moses  on  the  mount  divine. 

Appeared  upon  his  face  to  shine. 

*  *  #  * 

With  life,  and  bloom,  and  music  tone, 
The  days  of  spring  come  speeding  on ; 
So  fly  our  years  from  youth  to  age. 
While  manhood's  purposes  engage 
Rich  promises  of  fruit  mature. 
Whose  germs,  alas !  may  not  endure 
When  o'er  the  path  of  life  is  cast 
One  angry  sweep  of  sorrow's  blast. 

Woodvale  awoke  one  balmy  morn. 
Some  with  the  sun,  some  with  the  dawn. 
Both  young  and  old,  serene  and  gay. 
To  welcome  those  from  far  away 
Before  the  rustic  church  has  been 
A  platform  spread  upon  the  green. 


MISSION    BRIDE.  221 

And  rough-hewn  seats  are  ranged  around 
'I'he  shaded,  elevated  ground. 
The  hour  appointed  brings  them  near, 
Pedestrians,  horsemen — all  appear  ; 
Matrons  and  maidens,  children  come, 
And  Indians  from  the  forest's  home. 
Fragrant  and  soft  the  summer  air 
Kissed  every  head  uncovered  there  ; 
O'er  some  high  brows  the  silvery  wreath 
Of  age  shed  light  on  lids  beneath. 
And  bronzed  and  sunken  cheeks  betrayed 
The  sacrifice  their  lives  had  made : 
Irene  is  there,  the  usual  grace 
Of  thought  and  kindness  in  her  face  ; 
And  though  subdued,  a  few  short  years 
Have  left  no  trace  of  sorrow's  tears  ! 
For  life's  content  and  life's  employ 
Perfect  in  peace,  preserve  its  joy, 
Which,  gem-like,  on  the  casket  throw 
Beauty's  fair  radiating  glow. 
Beneath  that  canopy  of  skies. 
An  unexpected  voice  defies 
All  rules  of  etiquette,  and  strong 
His  utterance  thrills  the  listening  throng 

"  Ontara,  prophet  of  the  tribes,  has  come 

To  tell  Jehovah's  children  of  his  peace! 

The  white  man's  God  is  mine !     Irene,  the  Dove 

Of  Manito — the  Christian  maid — has  come  ! 

The  Saviour  gave  her  wings  and  power  of  prayer. 

She  brought  the  prophet  peace!    Her  love  dispersed 

The  clouds  around  his  soul.     Now  all  is  light ! 


222  EPIC  POEM. 

Warriors  !  brothers  !  hear  the  words  of  truth  ! 
This  Hght  will  save  my  people.     They  must  pray  ; 
God,  the  Great  Spirit,  will  forgive  their  sins 
For  Jesus'  sake,  and  heaven  shall  be  their  home." 

He  ceased  ;  but  still  his  searching  eyes  survey. 
And  rest  on  her  who  taught  his  lips  to  pray ; 
As  toward  her  bent  a  hundred  eager  eyes, 
In  awe,  respect,  in  love,  in  glad  surprise, 
Conscious  as  curious  interest  toward  her  turned, 
Irene's  fair  cheek  with  modest  blushes  burned ; 
When,  gently  thrilling,  like  the  breezes  flown, 
Fell  on  her  ear  a  well-rembered  tone : 
"  Irejie  !  the  dia7?iond  in  the  darkest  mine 
Forgets  not  ever  it  has  power  to  shine  !  "  * 

These  words,  though  startling,  magic  in  their  power 

To  make  an  era  of  the  passing  hour, 

Produced  no  fainting,  no  impulsive  rush 

Of  recognition,  but  a  deepening  flush 

Of  unexpected  pleasure ;  while  the  past 

In  panoramic  shadow  overcast 

The  view  around  her — all  its  joy,  its  grief. 

Its  dreams  that  faded,  like  the  summer  leaf. 

Illumined,  through  the  present's  magic  screen. 

Became  one  grand  but  quickly  changing  scene ! 

James  Mortimer  was  there  !     His  thoughtful  brow. 

The  same  as  when  he  breathed  his  early  vow ; 

Benign,  in  manly  dignity,  which  told 

The  worth  of  Ufe  unchained  by  love  of  gold. 

He  passed,  and  on  the  rostrum  meets 
His  brothers — each  the  other  greets  ; 
*  See  Page  136. 


MISSION  BRIUE.  223 

The  secvice,  earnest,  fervent,  strong. 
Now  moves  in  prayer,  now  thrills  in  song. 
Now  truths  in  exhortation  glow, 
And  tears  of  true  repentance  flow 
From  hearts  that  soften  in  the  hght 
Of  faith  and  hope — effulgence  bright ! 
Four  days  are  gone :  the  sunset  spoke. 
Effective  as  the  minster's  stroke; 
They  parted :  evening's  shadowy  gloara 
Gathered  around  each  humble  home. 

The  moon  had  risen  ;  Peace  surveyed 
With  pure  delight  the  prairie  glade ; 
Its  radiance  like  a  blissful  spell 
Around  two  forms  benignly  fell, 
They  are  seated  on  a  mossy  rock 
AVhere  gently  speads  a  branching  oak. 

"  Irene!  that  well-remembered  night 

We  parted,  in  yon  moon's  fair  light. 

That  autumn  hour  of  pensive  shade. 

A  seal  upon  my  being  laid. 

Yes,  dearest  girl,  my  love  for  thee 

Has  cheered  my  way  continually  ; 

For  since  my  heart's  warm  tendrils  clung 

Round  thee,  my  gentler  self;  I've  sung 

One  song  in  all  my  thoughts  of  love — 

Irene  is  mine,  we'll  meet  above. 

Thus,  heaven-impressed,  I've  cheerful  bowed 

To  duty's  fire,  its  moving  cloud  ; 

And  through  its  God-sustaining  power, 

I've  seen  the  germ  of  truth  in  flower; 


224  EPIC  POEM. 

Man's  inner  sense,  base,  low,  and  blind, 
Receive  new  light  from  Shiloh's  mind ! 
Ay,  God  has  blessed  my  thorny  way. 
And  crowned  it  with  this  joyous  day ! 
My  dearest !  He  who  tuned  the  lyres, 
Who  kindled  life's  deep,  quenchless  fires, 
All  harmony,  all  feeling,  here. 
Within  this  vast  unfathomed  sphere 
Of  mortal  and  immortal  life. 
Where  disobedience  woke  the  strife  ; 
Pure  Love,  the  essence  of  His  breath, 
Has  indestructible,  death  made. 
By  soul  intelligence  and  power — 
It  dies  not  like  a  withered  flower. 
But  claims  for  aye  perfected  spheres. 
Which  knows  not  country,  home,  nor  years ; 
Commingling  as  the  clouds  of  even, 
Where  two  in  one  begin  their  heaven. 
Angel  of  mine  !  of  waiting  years. 
Pearls  rare  and  holy  are  these  tears ; 
They  give  my  heart  a  full  assent 
To  bliss  united — love's  content. 
Strange  prescience  of  this  day  was  mine, 
While  unrebuked  my  heart  would  twine 
Wreaths,  flowery  structures,  shadowy  bloom, 
Dispelling  all  foreboding  gloom  : 
Now,  blest  reality,  I  claim 
No  richer  gift,  no  boon  of  fame ; 
Kind  heaven  has  sent  thee  to  my  arms. 
Earth's  wild  reveals  its  Eden's  charms !  " 
*         *         *         "I  did  not  know 
I  loved  you  in  that  long  ago. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  221 

My  morning  years  were  chilled  with  gloom 

When  sorrow  draped  each  parent's  tomb; 

And  yet  with  energy  sublime 

My  buoyant  nature  still  would  climb 

Anticipation's  mountain  fair, 

To  breathe  a  less  material  air; 

It  looked,  alas !  to  one  afar, 

As  toward  the  pole's  bright,  moveless  star ! 

'Twas  then  I  met  your  genial  smile. 

On  life's  deep  sea  it  was  an  isle 

Of  beauty — an  oasis  green. 

Upon  the  desert's  burning  sheen  ! 

I  felt  for  you  a  sister's  care, 

Nor  knew  there  dwelt  within  the  air 

We  both  inhaled  a  prescient  power. 

The  spirit  of  this  present  hour! 

A  destmy  whose  office  sought 

A  union  of  our  life  and  thought. 

How  wisely  hidden  from  our  ken 

Events  determined  !     Fondly  then 

My  inexpressive  nature  dwelt 

On  dreamy  vistas.     Vailed,  unfelt, 

Was  disappointment's  barb  of  woe ; 

Alas !  its  wild,  vehement  flow, 

Impelled  my  lonely,  fragile  bark, 

Too  near  destruction's  maelstrom  dark  I 

But,  rescued  from  the  mortal  brink 

By  unseen  arms,  I  woke  to  think 

(Jf  higher  duty.     Oscar's  fate 

•Made  youth  more  strong,  but  less  elate; 

Antl  though  the  sunrise  rose  was  gone, 

New  blo')m  might  cheer  the  morrow's  dawn." 


226  EPIC  POEM. 

'Mid  nature's  life-awaking  scene, 

We  sing  the  nuptials  of  Irene  : 

Winter  with  snowy  footsteps  bore 

Diurnal  treasures  to  the  shore, 

Of  time  departed.     Warming  gleams 

Woke  radiant  rainbows,  Summer's  dreams, 

And  Spring  now  swells  the  surging  tide 

Of  human  life,  and  love,  and  pride. 

That  ethereal  orb  which  long  ago 

Blest  Eden  with  its  evening  glow, 

Whose  hallowing  dream  of  light  divine. 

More  sweet  and  sacred  grows  with  time. 

Gave  the  only  pearls  to  her  braided  hair ; 

No  orange  bloom,  no  fabric  rare. 

No  woven  vail  sustained  a  charm 

Around  her  lithe  and  trembling  form ; 

No  fair  attendants  strewed  with  flowers 

The  pathway  of  the  nuptial  hours  ; 

Her  fair  soft  cheeks  were  calm  and  pale, 

Her  bright  eyes  flashed,  but  looked  too  frail ; 

And  her  hps  were  tinted  with  the  dyes 

Azaleas  wear  'neath  April  skies. 

Few  friends  were  gathered  round  the  pair 

Whose  lives  were  one  united  prayer  ; 

But  free  emotions  warm  expressed, 

The  kind  desires  of  every  breast. 

Ontara,  still  the  wild,  the  free. 
Was  leaning  'gainst  an  aged  tree, 
Whose  shade  in  calm  beatitude 
Fell  deep  around  that  cottage  rude  : 
Intent,  he  watched  the  bridal  scene, 


MISSION  BRIDE.  227 

And  then  advancing  toward  Irene, 
Displayed  a  pouch  of  bead  and  quill, 
Which  buds  and  milk-white  blossoms  fill ; 
A  species  wild,  unique,  and  strange, 
And  seldom  found  in  the  forest's  range. 
The  bride  received  the  gift  from  one 
Whose  strange,  deep  soul,  on  her's  had  won, 
And  the  prophet  left  the  marriage  scene 
With  step  subdued  and  thoughtful  mien. 
Reader,  we  may  not  pass  along 
To  close  the  medley  of  our  song, 
{As  oft,  when  love  has  been  the  theme, 
The  story  ends  when  ends  the  dream,) 
Until  we  shall  to  thee  unfold 
A  tale  of  progress,  life  and  gold. 

Ten  years  have  passed:  the  scene  is  changed, 
And  childhood  has  to  manhood  ranged. 
Since  the  teacher  with  her  husband  found 
A  home  by  other  circles  bound. 
Woodvale — how  changed  to  former  eyes! 
'Tis  'neath  the  same  rich  western  skies ; 
The  streamlet  round  it  murmurs  still, 
Save  where  engrossed  by  a  noisy  mill ; 
A  generous  growth  of  leafy  sheen 
Now  waves  upon  the  central  green  ; 
Like  monitors,  three  humble  spires 
Wake  thought  to  life's  more  pure  desires; 
And  far  around  the  forest  line 
Has  circled  back  :  a  fruitful  mine 
Of  leaden  ore  has  been  explored, 
Which  yields  to  labor  due  reward  ; 


228  EPIC  POEM. 

The  Indian  homes  are  farther  on, 

And  many  an  aged  warrior  gone. 

Our  prophet  sage  still  lives  to  prove 

His  Christian  zeal,  his  faithful  love ; 

Patient  he  taught  the  lispmg  tongue. 

Advised  the  old,  watched  o'er  the  young, 

And  many  a  heart  has  learned  to  pray. 

And  sought  through  him  the  heavenly  way : 

His  form  erect,  is  often  seen 

Within  the  church  or  on  the  green, 

And  his  enlightened  people  bless 

Christ's  heralds  to  the  wilderness. 

To  this  life-hallowed,  busy  scene, 

At  duty's  call,  return  Irene 

And  Mortimer,  while  welcomes  rare 

Are  showered  on  the  happy  pair ; 

For  memory  in  the  Indian  mind. 

Its  fadeless  wreath  of  love  has  twined. 

To  see  these  children  of  the  wood 

Eager  to  claim  the  spirit's  food. 

Angels  might  smile  with  new  delight. 

As  speeds  the  heaven-descending  light. 

While  Mortimer  with  holy  zeal 

Proclaims  the  gospel's  truth  and  weal. 

Clouds  follow  sunshine — pain  and  pleasure,. 
Along  life's  path,  quick  paces  measure ; 
On  Time's  huge  signet  change  is  wrought, 
And  man's  kaleidoscope  of  thought 
Can  neither  light  or  shade  dismiss, 
Whose  living  medley  heightens  bliss. 
But  now  the  shadow  is  before  us, 


MISSION   BRIDE.  229 

And  Death  is  near  with  voice  dolorous ! 

His  wand  has  bent  a  warning  stroke 

Upon  the  proud,  gigantic  oak, 

Whose  strong,  concentering  forces  seek 

Of  glory  in  its  fall  to  speak. 

The  prophet  feels  his  hour  is  nigh, 

And  brighter  glows  his  piercing  eye, 

Which  strengthens  with  its  weight  of  thought, 

As  though  'twere  from  the  Eternal  caught ! 

Dark  warnors  stand  around  his  bed 

In  solemn,  mute,  majestic  dread ; 

Before  him  sweeps  the  untried  shore 

No  mortal  vision  may  explore ; 

His  spirit  seems  to  pierce  the  screen. 

Suspended,  life  and  death  between. 


ONTARA'S  PROPHECY. 

•"  Life's  sunset  glimmers  on  Ontara's  path  ! 
The  visioned  future,  changing  with  its  light 
Of  living  story,  moves  before  his  gaze! 
The  moons  of  many  years  have  passed  away  : 
Countless  and  free,  throughout  the  spacious  vale, 
Where  Mississippi  flows,  tne  mighty  dwell! 
The  bison  shuns  the  prairies  wide — he  smells 
The  gun-smoke  of  the  white  man  boUl — he  seeks 
The  mountain  vales,  where  streams  in  summer  make 
The  blossoms  laugh  !     The  red  man  fades  away ; 
His  hunting-grounds  are  smooth  and  waving  plains: 
The  pale-face  gathers  there  the  bread  which  feeds 


230  EPIC  POEM. 

The  millions  of  his  tribes  !     The  eagle  leaves 

His  home  upon  the  dizzy  mountain  verge; 

He  parts  the  cloud  and  poises  o'er  the  land, 

The  guardian  symbol  of  its  power  and  truth  [ 

The  sounds  of  war  have  ceased — the  tomahawk 

Is  buried.     The  distant  fatherland  has  lost 

Its  hold,  as  bounds  aloft  this  giant  realm, 

And  revels  in  its  manhood,  freedom,  strength ! 

Now  moves  the  huge  canoe  upon  the  breast 

Of  every  mighty  stream.     It  flaps  its  wings. 

And  breathes  like  stormy  winds  among  the  bluffs ! 

Its  fearful  voice  is  like  the  dying  scream 

Of  monsters  dread,  and  echoes  far  away ! 

The  watery  bosom  trembles  as  it  bears 

The  winged  canoes,  deep  ladened  with  the  wealth 

Of  mighty  cities.    Where  stands  the  Big-chief  mound,* 

Rolls  up  black  smoke,  a  cloud,  a  blanket  for 

The  sky  !     No  red  man's  camp  is  there.     Lo  !  lo  ! 

He's  passed  away  ;  gone,  gone !     Lone 

And  desolate,  a  few  now  tread  the  vales 

Of  silent  mountains,  on  the  sunset  shore ! 

The  white  man's  love  of  gold  and  liquid  fire 
Have  burned  and  desolated  all  my  race. 
O  God  !  thy  way  is  in  the  deep  :  give,  give 
That  faith  which  through  the  blackest  night 
Beholds  thy  face  1  *  *  * 

Hark  !  distant  rumbling  sounds  salute  my  ears  ; 
They  seem^like  wheels  which  rolling  shake  the  ground  ! 
Before,  a  snorting  steed  whose  nostrils  pour 
A  stream  of  fire,  and  in  his  whirling  speed. 

*  The  vicinity  of  St.  Louis. 


MISSION  BRIDE.  231 

Shrill  yells  are  heard  which  shame  the  jianther  wild, 
And  send  the  fierce  black  wolf  low  crouching  to 
His  hidden  forest  lair  ! 

The  white  man's  home 
Spreads  o'er  the  plains  afar,  and  lines  the  banks 
Of  all  our  mighty  streams.     The  spreading  oak 
Is  cleft  in  beams,  and  clay  in  burning  piles 
Is  turned  to  stone.     His  wigwam  towers  to  heaven ! 
And  there  his  temples  rise  wherein  the  voice 
Of  Jesus  speaks,  where  music  stirs,  and  calls 
The  sinner  back.  •  *  * 

The  black  and  solid  bone  of  earth  is  raised 
From  its  deep  bed  ;  it  shines  like  lightning  o'er 
The  wave.     It  shoots  its  thousand  tongues  of  fire 
To  light  the  night,  to  chase  away  the  cold. 
When  God  enkindles  deep,  internal  fires, 
It  opens  chasms  huge,  and  shakes  the  land. 
Turns  back  the  rivers'  course,  and  crumbles  down 
Their  banks.     The  earth  gives  up  its  leaden  bars. 
Its  iron  strength,  its  gold,  its  copper,  sinews. 
The  fruits  of  all  this  teeming  land  are  borne 
On  white-winged  boats  across  the  distant  sea, 
Whose  wave  is  salt  and  blue,  to  powerful  kings  1 
And  thus  a  nation  in  its  morning  life 
Becomes  supreme  in  love  of  wealth,  in  pride 

Of  gold,  in  prowess  and  in  glory  ! 

******* 

There's  a  deep  shadow  on  the  morning's  brow  ! 
I  fain  would  shut  my  eyes,  but  God  reveals 
The  dismal  horrors  of  those  damning  sins. 
Where  blood  is  eleansed  alone  by  brothers'  blood  ; 
Where  j)ain  is  eased  alone  by  keener  |)ain  1 


232  EPIC  POEM. 

Where  triumph  saddens  and  in  grief  must  weep  ! 
Jehovah's  hand  has  marked  the  fall !     Stars  leave 
The  sky.      The  eagle  seeks  his  mountain  home  / 
O  God !  turn  back  that  page  of  woe  and  death  ! 
Illume  the  darkening  night !     Arrest  the  flow 
Of  blood  fraternal !     Rebuke  the  carrion  bird 
Which  hovers  o'er  the  plains  of  freedom's  strife ! 
Waken  the  song  of  busy  life  anew  ! 
Touch  a  sweet  strain  of  soft  recall !     Inspire 
The  bloom  of  peace  !     Light !  Hght  1  light !  " 

Still  moved  the  prophet's  restless  eye, 
Its  quivering  glances  sought  the  sky, 
Till  closed  each  lid,  while  o'er  his  face 
Spread  softly  a  peculiar  grace ; 
His  hand  still  waved,  pulsation  fled, 
It  dropped ;  the  seer  is  with  the  dead. 

The  tale  is  told — we  leave  the  theme 

And  rest  our  eyes  on  life's  strange  dream. 

Surveying  truth  in  noblest  guise, 

Blooming  beneath  its  native  skies; 

The  Indian  prophet's  story  proves 

The  source  of  pure,  benignant  loves. 

The  power  which  through  his  clouded  life, 

Through  rude,  perverted,  mental  strife, 

Broke  forth  in  living  light  to  bless 

The  wanderers  of  the  wilderness. 

We  may  not  bid  farewell  to  one 

Through  whose  sweet  influence  all  was  done, 

Before  we  twine  a  parting  wreath, 

Memento  of  the  orphan's  death. 


MISSION   BRIDE.  233 


CONCLUSION. 


Weep  not  for  those  who  die  in  summer's  prime; 

Whose  breath  departs  ere  noonday's  hopeful  chime ; 

Who  pass  serenely  from  their  labors  here, 

Reliant  on  the  future ;  whom  no  tear 

Of  life's  regret  betrays  life's  purpose  failed, 

Whose  love  of  duty  grief  has  left  unquailed  ; 

Rejoice  that  mortal  fears,  and  storm,  and  cloud 

On  them  was  wasted  like  a  snowy  shroud 

On  April's  bloom  ;  that  Virtue's  morning  beams 

Were  n6t  dispelled  by  disappointment's  dreams! 

Dear  reader,  such  was  she  whose  being  kept 
Its  own  chaste  sanctity ;  from  which  there  crept 
No  self-polluting  shadow,  no  distrust 
Of  man  or  God,  beheving  nature  just: 
Whose  life  was  self-possessed,  content,  complete, 
Heroic,  hopeful,  loving. 

We  have  seen 
The  gentle  childhood  of  the  pure  Irene; 
The  roses  of  her  youth  before  us  smiled. 
Not  rare  exotics,  not  the  blossoms  wild 
Of  pasture,  prairie,  wood,  or  ruins  damp. 
Deserted  garden,  or  of  poisonous  swamp  ; 
But  virtues  cultured  by  the  careful  hand 
Of  parents  whcj  in  love  and  strength  command. 
And  we  have  seen  the  dew  of  morning  love. 
Ere  yet  her  virgin  heart  had  sought  to  rove. 
Descend  upon  its  fair  parterre,  and  shine 
In  radiance,  which  no  iris  may  combine! 


234  EPIC  POEM. 

Love's  early  dream,  with  immemorial  art, 

Kindled  the  sleeping  raptures  of  her  heart, 

And  life  was  bliss.  *  *  # 

*  *  The  sorrowing  climax  came, 

And  "  Oscar"  lived — a  sweet,  unuttered  name, 

A  memory,  a  hope  of  heaven — then  life 

Seemed  but  a  monitor  of  duty's  strife  ; 

Still  human  love  remained  and  round  her  woke. 

Though  Love's  sweet  woven  chain  was  severed — broke; 

And  the  lonely  orphan  found  in  earth's  rude  wild 

That  stars,  and  flowers,  and  sunbeam's  gladness  smiled, 

Yet  failing  to  remember  that  the  star 

Of  morning  gems  the  evening  tiara ! 

A  heart  by  nature  kindred  with  her  own. 

Repulsed,  was  sent  to  walk  and  hope  alone; 

And  then  the  serpent  trailed  upon  her  path, 

Whose  slime  and  virus  ne'er  could  blight  or  scathe 

One  bud  of  purity  !     His  hopes  despoiled, 

And  vengeance  on  the  murderer  recoiled ! 

But  like  the  star  that  gilds  the  opening  day, 

Love's  wandering  radiance  ere  the  evening  lay 

On  hfe's  dim  path  :    She  met  and  soon  discerned 

How  genially  its  lustres  for  her  burned ! ' 

And  love-accepted  crowned  her  hopes  with  truth, 

A  stronger  coronal  than  early  youth 

May  wear  upon  its  dream-dehghted  brow ; 

And  years  maturer  sealed  the  marriage  vow. 

***** 

We  may  not  dwell  upon  the  closing  scene ; 
But,  gentle  reader,  give  our  lost  Irene — 
A  sigh?  a  tear?  a  song?     Ah  no,  a  smile! 


MISSION   BRIDE.  235 

A  pledge  of  hope ;  though  near  a  lovely  isle, 
On  upper  Mississippi's  pebbly  shore, 
Her  form  was  laid;  her  spirit  evermore 
Rejoices  in  the  Eden  ot  the  skies — 
A  song-bird  of  the  Saviour's  Paradise. 


THE    END. 


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